


A Dream Within a Dream

by Arionrhod, McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arionrhod/pseuds/Arionrhod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: The strange dreams plaguing Sheriff Rhys Lewis and forensic scientist Seth Snyder are almost as strange as the case that throws them together. Initially, they believe the savage murders plaguing Haywood County are the work of a vicious serial killer, but all the evidence points them toward a more literal monster — one neither of them thought could really exist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We know it sounds a little odd based on the summary, but we promise this isn't an AU! 
> 
> Warning: the canonical deaths did happen. There's some violence, but nothing too gory, and there are dead bodies. Originally written for the final Snupin Santa fest in 2014.

__

All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream.

**Haywood County, NC -- October, 2033**

 

“This is nothing but a wild goose chase, if you ask me. Whatever made those tracks is long gone.”

Sheriff Rhys Lewis clenched his jaw. The part of him that was responsible for the safety and well being of the residents of Haywood County, North Carolina, hoped Fred was wrong and that they had a chance to capture the elusive beast which had been terrorizing the countryside. But he had to admit that another part, more primitive and less rational, wanted to believe the nightmare was gone for good.

“Just keep your mind on what you’re doing,” he said, shooting Fred a frown before returning his gaze to the ground, looking carefully for any sign their quarry had passed this way. “I don’t want to overlook anything. We owe it to Allen, don’t you think?”

For a long moment, there was no reply, then he heard Fred sigh. “Yeah. You’re right, we do. I want to catch whatever killed Allen, but I can’t help thinking that anything that could take down a man of Allen’s size and strength sure as hell isn’t something I’m anxious to tangle with on my own.”

“Which is why there are two of us,” Rhys pointed out. He stopped and crouched down to examine an indentation in the earth, but it didn’t appear to be a track. “But I’m beginning to wonder if we’re dealing with an animal after all.”

“What?” 

Rhys straightened, brushing dirt from his hands. Fred looked dismayed, his blue eyes troubled. 

“You heard me.”

Fred frowned and shook his head. “It has to be an animal. There’s the claw marks, the bite marks… Hell, Doc Patterson said she’d seen a pit bull attack that looked worse than what we’ve seen.” He grimaced. “God, I hate reducing Allen’s death to a case study, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know.” 

Rhys didn’t like thinking about Allen Drake’s death either. Not only had Allen been Rhys’ mentor, but one of his closest friends as well, despite the difference in their ages. He’d also been the rightfully elected Sheriff of the county, until his mangled body had been discovered in a ditch beside a narrow mountain road four weeks previously. Rhys had been the one to find him, and as the senior deputy, Allen’s job had fallen onto his shoulders until a special election could be held. 

It was the ultimate irony that Rhys had never aspired to be sheriff; he had been perfectly content in his subordinate role, preferring to let Allen make the tough calls and be the public face of law and order. But now the job was his -- at least until he was replaced -- and bringing whatever, or whoever, had killed Allen to justice was his responsibility.

“I know what Doc Patterson said,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down the wooded trail they’d been following. “A big dog, maybe a bear… but let’s be realistic. The Harris boy and Allen were killed miles from where the dead woman was found this morning. The tracks around the body look the same, and the wounds look the same, but you can’t tell me you really think a single animal is ranging all over the county, killing people.”

“Damn.” Fred Walker was a good deputy, but he had a way of seeing only the good in people, and Rhys could see he was reluctant to accept the implication. 

“Tell me about it.” With a sigh, Rhys gestured back toward the way they’d come. “We’ve lost the trail, and it’s getting late. I say let’s head back to town and see if that specialist Doc Patterson sent for has showed up. Maybe whoever it is can tell us conclusively what type of animal can rip three grown people to shreds and then disappear without a trace.”

With a nod, Fred turned and started back down the trail toward the road, and Rhys followed in his wake. It had been a long, unpleasant day -- the third in only a short period of time. Rhys had now dealt with more unexplained deaths in eight weeks than he had in his previous twelve years in law enforcement, and he didn’t like it one bit. Just like he didn’t like the conclusion the facts were beginning to point toward.

A rabid dog or bear killing people, awful as that was, was infinitely better than the increasingly likely -- and horrifying -- possibility that they might have a serial killer on their hands.

* * *

“Good lord! I can see why y’all need outside help.” Seth swept his gaze around the lobby of the sheriff’s department, noting the lack of amenities he was accustomed to at home in Raleigh. They didn’t even have an espresso machine, just a plain drip coffee maker that looked like it had seen its best days around the turn of the century.

His announcement earned him a resentful glare from one of the local cops, who was seated at a tiny desk near the door, but Seth ignored it. 

“Who’s in charge around here?” he asked, looking around for someone -- anyone -- who looked like they might know what they were doing.

A man stepped through an open doorway near the back of the room. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with long, honey-blond hair pulled back from his face in a ponytail and piercing blue eyes. He also sported a couple of days worth of stubble, which seemed rather at odds with his spotless, well-tailored uniform.

“I’m Sheriff Lewis,” he said, raising a brow at Seth. “And you are…?”

“Dr. Seth Snyder.” Seth held out his hand, discreetly admiring the sheriff’s rugged good looks. “Y’all sent for a specialist, and here I am.”

Sheriff Lewis took Seth’s hand in a strong grip. “Ah, yes. Dr. Patterson, our Medical Examiner, is expecting you. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to her office. Hopefully you can shed some light on what we’re actually facing.”

Seth bit back a gasp, not at the strength of Lewis’ grip but at the warm tingle of awareness he felt at Lewis’ touch. 

_He’s taller than I am this time._

Seth had no idea where that bizarre thought had come from, and he dismissed it swiftly. “I’m sure I can,” he replied confidently as he followed along behind Lewis, which offered a rather nice view. 

Lewis didn’t reply as he led Seth between two rows of desks. There were perhaps half a dozen deputies on duty, talking on the phone or working on computers that looked as antique as the coffee maker. There were several doors at the back, one of which was labeled “CORONER” in old-fashioned gold letters on frosted glass. Lewis knocked twice on the doorframe, then opened it and stepped inside.

“Hey, Doc, your expert is here,” he said, moving aside so Seth could follow him in. 

The office looked as vintage as everything else about the place, packed with file cabinets and “decorated” with anatomical charts that had to be at least fifty-some years old. Dr. Patterson herself was an older woman with silver hair and a no-nonsense look about her, and she didn’t seem terribly impressed or cowed by Seth’s arrival. 

“I’m Dr. Snyder,” he said, offering her his hand as well. 

She rose from behind the desk, shaking his hand firmly. “Thanks for coming,” she replied. “I think the situation we have is a little beyond my training. I can handle gunshots and stabbings and such just fine, but we’ve got something pretty odd on our hands.”

Seth refrained from commenting that what was odd to a Haywood County ME would probably be tame compared to what he had seen over the years. “Let’s take a look,” he said instead, mentally rewarding himself for a rare display of diplomacy and tact.

“Back this way,” Lewis said, leading the way out of the office. He turned right and headed down a short corridor toward a steel door at the end. 

The room Seth was led into was tiled in olive drab, with the typical sharp smell of disinfectants overlaid with the coppery tang of blood. It was cold and dimly lit, the walls lined with stainless steel shelves with glass fronts. There was a steel table in the middle of the room, with a sheet-covered body on top of it.

Dr. Patterson offered him a pair of latex gloves, which he accepted with murmured thanks, his attention already focused on what lay under the sheet. Once he put the gloves on, he pulled back the sheet and studied the body, mentally assessing the obvious facts. A woman in her late thirties or early forties. Wounds consistent with shredding or tearing damage caused by claws rather than an edged weapon.

He frowned absently as he leaned over and peered more closely at some puncture wounds on the shoulder. “This appears to be a straightforward case,” he said as he straightened and turned to Lewis and Dr. Patterson. “Why did you feel the need to bring in a specialist for an animal attack?”

“That’s what it looks like, doesn’t it?” Dr. Patterson’s tone was dry. “Trust me, son, I wouldn’t have bothered to call in a specialist if it really was an animal attack. Look closer.”

Seth shot a dubious look at her, but he bent over the body again and took another look. Obviously there were details she expected him to notice, so he put aside his initial deduction and started over. This time, he noticed the victim’s neck was broken as well, and the claw marks went quite deep. The bite marks were harder to discern because they were obscured by the claw damage, but from what he could see, the teeth that had made them must have been larger than that of a dog or a wolf, perhaps larger than even a bear. 

“I think I see what you mean,” he said slowly as he straightened once more. “May I assume there aren’t any predatory species native to the area that could have caused this kind of damage?”

“No.” Dr. Patterson had donned a pair of gloves as well, and she stepped up to the table, pointing to the neck. “It looks to me like the creature managed to get its jaws almost completely around her throat. The only wolves in this area are red wolves, and they’re small, no more than eighty pounds at the very most. That isn’t nearly big enough to do this kind of damage. A black bear would be big enough, but they tend to shy away from humans, and at this time of year, most of them have gone into hibernation. Cougars have been extinct in this area for a hundred years. But the most telling thing is that this isn’t the first death. It’s the third, and this one took place over twenty miles from where the other two happened.”

Seth’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he listened to her explanation. “That _is_ unusual. Are you sure the other two deaths are linked to this one?” 

“Yes.” Sheriff Lewis spoke up this time, his deep voice soft but full of certainty. “The attacks all followed the same pattern: single person alone near the edge of the woods at night, no other people within sight. The victims all mauled to death, as brutally as anything I’ve ever seen. All but the faces. None of them had so much as a scratch on their faces.”

“Was there anything missing?” Seth asked, his mind racing as he mulled over the possibilities. “They were bitten, obviously, but were they eaten? Or were any trophies taken?”

“They weren’t eaten,” Dr. Patterson said, then frowned. “Wait… trophies? Are you saying you think a person did this?”

Lewis held up one hand. “Hang on a second, Doc,” he said, then looked at Seth intently. “You might want to examine the rest of the evidence before rendering an opinion. I want to make certain that any decision you make about these cases are based on all the facts.”

“I _want_ to look at the rest of the evidence.” Seth drews himself up to his full height and peered haughtily at Lewis. “At this point, I’m not ruling out either an animal attack or a human attack. That’s why I asked if they were eaten _or_ if a trophy might have been taken.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Seth, then something that looked suspiciously like amusement crossed his face. It was only there for a moment, however, before Lewis frowned in confusion and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Sorry, it’s been a long day. I’ll get the files for you, but I’m afraid you’ll need to examine them here. I reopened the first two cases when I came back from the scene of the third crime.”

“That’s fine.” Seth waved imperiously. “I came prepared to stay a few days if necessary. I want to see everything related to all three cases, no matter how insignificant.”

“Would you like to see the files now, or do you want to examine this body further?” Lewis asked. “We’ve contacted the victim’s family, and I’d rather they didn’t have to see their loved one hacked up like a piece of meat.”

“I’d like to conduct a more thorough examination before you release the body. Assuming you have proper safety gear?” Seth raised a questioning eyebrow at Dr. Patterson. 

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “We may not be as high-falutin’ as your labs in Raleigh, Dr. Snyder, but we aren’t in the Stone Age, either. I think we can accommodate you well enough.”

“In that case, I’ll leave you to it,” Lewis said. “When you’re finished, Dr. Snyder, I’ll have the other files for you.”

“Perfect.” Seth turned his attention to Dr. Patterson. “If you’ll loan me some gear? I’d like you to stay while I examine the body as well, if you don’t mind. I’d like to hear more about your observations about the victims.”

“Of course. I’ll also give you my own case files,” Doctor Patterson replied with a business-like nod, turning to a cabinet along one wall.

After one final glance, Rhys Lewis left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself. Seth turned back to the body on the table, wondering what kind of secrets he was going to uncover. He’d come to Haywood County thinking the case would be something run of the mill. Instead, he found one of the most interesting cases he’d been assigned in quite a while, and he was ready to start digging up some answers.

* * *

After leaving the two doctors to their gruesome task, Rhys returned to his office. He wasn’t surprised to find several voice mails waiting for him, and he had no doubt his email queue would be full as well. Three violent deaths in a small place like Haywood County was big news, and people wanted to know what he was doing about the threat.

He was still getting used to dealing with the media, even though he was aware that the few laidback reporters of the local paper were nothing compared to the big news outlets in Asheville, Greensboro, and Raleigh. But Allen Drake had always been the one to answer questions, and his quietly competent manner had been reassuring to the sixty-thousand residents of the county. So far Rhys had been able to put off the reporters with the animal attack story, which he and Doc Patterson had honestly believed at the time. But this third victim changed everything, and Rhys had a horrible feeling that the sensationalist reporters in the big cities would descend on him as soon as they got wind of the latest death.

Sighing, he dealt with the calls and emails which needed immediate response, putting off the rest in favor of pulling out the files on the first two killings. It was only a month since Allen’s death, and Rhys still found it hard to look at the file, feeling that he should have prevented the tragedy somehow. If he had gone with Allen, perhaps between the two of them, they could have stopped the killer. But Rhys had remained at the station, choosing to finish up paperwork rather than accompany his friend. Now he was paying for it, although shouldering the responsibilities Allen had left was the least he could do.

He put the files on the corner of his desk, ready for Dr. Snyder, then looked down at them with a frown. There was something about the tall, lean man that Rhys found unsettling. It wasn’t just that Rhys had felt a definite surge of attraction when he’d shaken the man’s hand. Rhys had accepted his orientation since he’d been in college, and while he didn’t go around shouting it from the rooftops, he wasn’t going to deny it, either. He doubted he would be elected Sheriff when they got around to holding the election anyway, but he wasn’t going to pretend he was something he wasn’t just to win an office he didn’t want in the first place. 

No, there was something else about Seth Snyder beyond his long, dark hair, flashing brown eyes, and obvious intelligence that Rhys couldn’t put his finger on. Whatever it was, though, wasn’t as strange as the thought that had flashed through Rhys’ mind when Dr. Snyder had tilted his head back and done his best to peer down the length of his nose at Rhys.

_He’s still as wickedly snarky as ever._

The thought made no sense whatsoever. Rhys had never met Dr. Snyder before, so he had no idea why in the world that particular observation had occurred to him out of the blue. He wanted to dismiss it as the product of fatigue and stress, but he couldn’t. He was sure it meant something, but he didn’t have a clue what that could be.

“Just get back to work,” he told himself, settling down behind his desk again and forcing himself to get back to work. He’d always had a bit of an obsessive streak when it came to making sure he discharged his duties to the very best of his ability; Allen had always chuckled and said that Rhys must be paying for something from a past life.

A couple of hours passed before Dr. Snyder rapped on the doorframe and poked his head into Rhys’ office. “I’ve finished my examination,” he announced.

“Please, come in and have a seat,” Rhys replied. “Did you find anything else unusual?”

“The only thing I found were more questions,” Seth growled as he stalked across the room and plopped down in a chair, scowling. “I don’t understand this at all. All the signs point to an animal attack, and yet there are no missing pieces or other signs of predation. It was far more savage and brutal than a normal animal attack as well, almost as if the creature was angry. But that level of violent emotion would imply a human attack, which I don’t see being a possibility at this point.”

There was something fascinating about Seth’s scowl, and Rhys found himself watching Seth closely. _He never did like mysteries_ , he thought distantly, then sucked in a startled breath.

“Are you going to say anything?” Seth snapped impatiently. “Perhaps give me the other case files? Or are you just going to sit there, gawking?”

“Sorry,” Rhys said, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want to argue with Seth, since the man was there to help them -- especially when he was feeling so unsettled. “The files are there on the corner of the desk. I have to say I’m not terribly surprised by your findings, and I’m anxious to find out what you think after you review the files.”

“ _I’m_ anxious to find out what I think,” Seth muttered as he snatched up the files. He hadn’t seemed quite so impatient or on edge when he arrived, so it seemed he was the type to get testy when he felt thwarted. 

He opened the first file and began poring over it, his frown deepening. He went through the first case slowly and methodically, and then he did the same with the second file. When he finished, he appeared lost in thought. 

“Different locations, same wound patterns,” he said at last, seeming to be talking more to himself than to Rhys. “More traveling than an animal would normally do.” He checked the files again, scanning them quickly, and then he tugged up the sleeve of his sweater and tapped an app on his watch, checking something on it. “Did you realize the deaths are all right at twenty-eight days apart?”

Rhys sat upright in his chair, eyes widening in surprise. “No, no, I didn’t,” he replied, wanting to smack himself for overlooking the fact. “That’s another factor against it being an animal, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I think we’re definitely looking at a human suspect, not an animal,” Seth said grimly. “Despite all appearances to the contrary. Is there any local significance to this? Some reenactment of a past event?”

“There were a lot of deaths over a hundred and fifty years ago. Waynesville was the location of the last skirmish of the Civil War, and the whole area around here was pillaged and burned by Union soldiers,” Rhys replied slowly. He frowned in thought, trying to recall anything else. “I really can’t think of anything other than that, but I don’t claim to be a historical expert. There’s also the Qualla Boundary out to the west. It’s tribal land belonging to the Cherokee. They have their own laws, and we don’t get involved, so if something happened there, we wouldn’t necessarily know about it.”

Seth waved dismissively. “It’s a long shot anyway. If the killer is reenacting a specific event, he wouldn’t strike on a monthly basis. Still, there must be a reason he only kills once a month. Psychological, perhaps?” Again, he appeared to be musing aloud to himself. “Maybe that’s how long he can hold out against his need to kill before it gets the better of him. Or her.” He paused, then shook his head. “No, probably male unless we have a very strong woman. Those gouges have a great deal of brute force behind them.”

Rhys had been dwelling on the same points every since that afternoon, when he’d finally admitted to himself the possibility that there might be a serial killer stalking the county. “I’ve had the same thought,” he replied. “My criminology classes touched on serial killers, but to be honest, it isn’t anything I ever thought I’d run across here. But I still don’t understand how a person could have made wounds like that. Some kind of odd weapon? Or could it be a person working with one or more big dogs or wolves they’ve trained to attack?”

“No, a wolf couldn’t make those kinds of wounds,” Seth replied. “Some of the bigger dog breeds -- mastiffs, for example -- might be the right size, but the claws are wrong. They couldn’t cut that deep. Besides, these wounds had more... _intent_ behind them than a dog would be capable of.” He growled and slapped his palm against the arm of the chair in frustration. “A claw device? Something that lets the killer become more animalistic?” He let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Savage attacks that look like the work of an animal, performed every twenty-eight days. It’s almost like our killer wants to be a werewolf!”

_Maybe he does._

“Wait… every twenty eight days, and I know for a fact last night was the full moon!” Rhys felt a surge of hope. “I do remember from my classes that there are some people who behave differently during that phase of the lunar cycle. Not that it has anything to do with anything other than the psychology of the perpetrator. But there really is evidence about such cases, and I’ve read that emergency room visits and arrests in big cities increase at the time of the full moon.”

“That may be what we’re dealing with. Someone who gets a little too in touch with their animal side during the full moon -- or _wants_ to. It’s entirely possible someone is deliberately attempting to dehumanize themselves,” Seth replied. 

The thought made Rhys feel sick, but he knew he’d been fortunate, being in law enforcement in such a relatively peaceful place. “It would have to be someone either psychotic or evil. Since I can’t think of anyone like that around here off the top of my head, I’m going to have to start from scratch looking for suspects.”

“Fortunately, it seems you have about a month to do it,” Seth said dryly. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Rhys found himself unable to repress a smile at the observation. “I suppose we’ll see how good of a cop I am.” He leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “I’m going to need help with this. Scientific help. Doc Patterson is great with the everyday stuff, but she doesn’t have the training or the access to more sophisticated equipment we’re going to need. I also don’t want a bunch of outsiders coming in, frightening everyone and making them suspicious of one another.”

Seth raised one eyebrow at him. “Is that your backhanded way of asking me to stay and help solve the case?”

Rhys chuckled. “I was leading up to it, yes. If you’re willing.”

“Well...” Seth shrugged, affecting a casual air. “I would need to clear it, of course, but if I can be spared, I suppose I can lend my expertise here.” 

A sense of relief, far out of proportion to the circumstances, flowed over Rhys, but he brushed the feeling aside. “I’d be grateful. Very grateful.”

“At this point, I want to know what’s going on too,” Seth admitted. “I dislike mysteries. That’s why I went into this field in the first place.”

“Oh.” Rhys felt an odd jolt at hearing his earlier strange thought about Seth confirmed. He drew in a breath, his heart pounding. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” he said, glancing down at the papers on his desk to cover his turmoil. “Let’s see… Driving back and forth from Raleigh would be a real inconvenience, I know. If you’d like, I have a guest room you could use during the investigation. As an added advantage, you would be able to take the case files back with you, since technically I’d be responsible for them, not you.”

Seth shot a startled glance at Rhys, but then he nodded slowly. “I need to return to Raleigh to clear a prolonged stay with my boss and pack more than an overnight bag, but if you think you can put up with having me as a house guest, I accept.” 

Rhys wasn’t even certain what had prompted him to issue the invitation, but he smiled crookedly. “It’s not the Hilton, you understand, but it won’t be a problem. You’re definitely doing us a big favor, too. The department doesn’t have a huge budget.” He pulled out his cell phone. “If you’ll give me your number, I’ll message you my address. Were you planning on staying overnight tonight? It’s getting late, and you’re welcome to stay rather than take on the drive all the way back to Raleigh.”

Seth provided his phone number, then added, “I was planning to stay. I only brought an overnight bag because I thought this case would be a lot easier to solve.” The glower that accompanied those words made it clear how much Seth disliked being proved wrong.

“I really wish it had been,” Rhys replied. While he didn’t like the mystery or the danger associated with the case, the thought of spending more time in Seth’s company was appealing -- perhaps a bit too appealing. For all Rhys knew, Seth had a wife and family back in Raleigh. “I hope that helping out won’t cause you any inconvenience.”

“No, I wasn’t working on anything that can’t be handed off to someone else, and this seems more important,” Seth replied. 

“Good, I’m glad.” Seth’s answer hadn’t told him what he wanted to know, so he tried fishing a little more. “If you’re through here for the day, I am too. Do you need to check in with anyone?”

“No, I can update my boss when I go home tomorrow, and it’s not like I have anyone waiting for me at home.” Seth gave a little snort. 

“Married to your work?” Rhys asked as he logged out of the computer. 

“Something like that.” Seth shrugged insouciantly. “I’m not the easiest person to be in a relationship with for a number of reasons.”

“Not to mention being obsessed with your work,” Rhys commented, knowing it was true even as he said it. He locked his desk, then rose to his feet. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Seth stood up as well, studying Rhys intently. “That wording makes it sound like you’re asking me out.” 

“Oh!” Rhys felt his face flushing. “Sorry… I… um… Well, we both need to eat, right? If you’d prefer to get something by yourself, that’s fine.”

“No, I’ll have dinner with you, but since _you_ asked _me_ , you’re paying,” Seth replied with a little smirk. 

“Yes, of course.” Rhys gestured toward the door, then led Seth out of the station, wondering if Seth’s words indicated that he would have accepted if Rhys _had_ been asking him out. “If homestyle cooking suits you, we have a diner in walking distance that’s very good.”

“Sounds good to me, as long as they have decent sweet tea.”

“The best in town,” Rhys said, turning in the direction of the diner. For some reason, he was finding Seth more fascinating all the time, and he wanted to learn more. “Do you come from Raleigh originally? The accent and a preference for sweet tea are a sure tell that you’re from the south.”

“No, I’m originally from Wilson, went to college out of state, then came back and got a job in Raleigh,” Seth replied, keeping pace with Rhys’ long legs easily. “What about you?”

“Born and raised right here in Waynesville,” Rhys admitted. “I came back here to work after I graduated from UNC Wilmington. My parents were older when they had me, and they retired and moved to Florida years ago. Mom couldn’t take the mountain winters any longer.”

“Mine are still in Wilson. They keep making noises about moving somewhere else, but I don’t think they will. They’re too entrenched in their social circles to leave. _I_ don’t have that problem,” Seth added dryly. 

Again, Rhys had one of those strange flashes of knowledge. “You’re an introvert, and you find a lot of people tedious because they aren’t as intelligent as you are.” He gave Seth a sideways glance. “Not to mention you don’t like being polite to people you can’t stand or playing meaningless social games.”

Seth’s dark eyes widened in surprise. “Either your skills of observation and deduction are better than I thought or you’ve been talking to my colleagues.”

Rhys shrugged, smiling wryly. “I don’t know what it is,” he admitted, hoping Seth wouldn’t think he was out of his mind. “I know we haven’t met before, and I like to think I’m good at my job, but I’m no Sherlock Holmes. I just… I don’t know. Don’t think I’m weird or anything, but somehow I feel like I understand you.”

Rather than laugh or dismiss Rhys’ words as nonsense, Seth was silent for a moment, his expression pensive. “It doesn’t sound weird,” he said slowly. “Or if it is, then I’m weird too because I’ve felt the same way.”

“Oh?” Rhys was intrigued by Seth’s admission. “You think you understand me?”

“On some level, yes.” Seth gave him a frank look and nodded. “I feel like -- like you’re somehow familiar to me.”

“Yes, like that,” Rhys agreed. “I’ve never felt that way about someone I’d never met before.”

“Neither have I,” Seth admitted. “This has been a pretty weird situation in more ways than one.”

“Definitely,” Rhys agreed. “But I don’t find it unpleasant, even if it’s on the odd side. Although if you discover you can read my mind, please let me know so I can put on a tin foil hat or something.”

That actually coaxed laughter out of Seth, a deep, rich sound that matched his enticing voice. “Not so far, but if I do end up able to read your mind, whether I tell you or not will depend on how beneficial it is to _me_.” 

“Somehow, I am not at all surprised by that.” Rhys found himself chuckling as well. “Ah, here we are. I hope you’re hungry. They serve enormous helpings.”

The hostess -- a motherly woman with gray hair and a round, cherubic face whom Rhys had known his entire life -- showed them to a table. Rhys was no stranger to the establishment, but Sally handed him a menu anyway. 

“I already know what you want to drink, Rhys,” she said, then gave Seth a friendly smile. After they had ordered -- chicken and dumplings for Rhys, fried chicken and biscuits for Seth -- she bustled off, returning with two glasses of sweet tea before heading back to the kitchen for their food.

Once they were alone again, Rhys found himself watching Seth, strangely fascinated by the way his long, slender fingers curled around his glass of sweet tea. It was all too tempting to start fantasizing about those fingers playing over his skin.

“So, what do you do besides forensics?” he asked to distract himself from the intimate train of thought. “Although if you tell me you’re a rabid football fan who skydives every other weekend, I’ll know you’re pulling my leg.”

“I read, I take advantage of some of the cultural activities in the Triangle area, I don’t give a flying frog’s ass about sports or skydiving or any other activity that requires me to fling myself off of or out of something,” Seth replied as he buttered a biscuit fastidiously. 

Nothing Seth said was much of a surprise, but Rhys found it no less fascinating. Sally returned quickly with their food -- she knew the policemen who ate at her place might get called out suddenly for an emergency -- and they chatted quietly through dinner. Afterward, Rhys walked Seth to his car, making sure that Seth’s GPS had the correct directions to his house.

He walked back to his own car -- one of the county police vehicles, since technically Rhys was always on call -- and sat behind the wheel for a few minutes, lost in thought. He wasn’t certain what was going on between him and Seth, and he had no idea what, if anything, it was leading to. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Seth’s presence in Waynesville had some deeper meaning, one even beyond the horrifying presence of the killer haunting the area. 

He didn’t know what the meaning _was_ , of course, but, like Seth, he was determined to find out.

* * *

Seth looked around the room, aware that he was dreaming but immersed in the world of the dream. The walls were bare stone, lined with wood shelves, some of which held books and others which held colored bottles and jars. In front of him were neat rows of desks, and he watched as a group of students filed into the room and took their seats. They looked to be closer to twelve or thirteen -- adolescents, but just barely.

His dream self felt a surge of dislike for them, an antipathy that grew stronger when he looked at a moon-faced boy staring back at him with naked fear, at a bushy-haired girl who was poring over her textbook, at a dark-haired boy with defiant eyes behind his round glasses. This boy shared a mutual dislike with Seth’s dream self. 

Seth looked down and saw a large cauldron, saw himself dressed in black robes like a priest or a magician. Before he could wonder too much about what was going on, the scene changed, and he found himself sitting in a stadium, gazing up in the air at some more teenagers in odd uniforms, only this time, they were riding broomsticks. He felt a surge of pride when he saw the riders wearing dark green and silver, but the game itself didn’t make any sense to him. There were flying balls and hoops -- total fantasy novel nonsense. 

The scene began to fade, but before he could move on to whatever crazy scenario this dream was going to throw at him, the alarm went off, and he awoke with a start. He glanced down, relieved to see his plain gray t-shirt and flannel sleep pants, not black robes. 

“I was in a castle...” he murmured, lifting one hand to his head as he tried to shake off the strange dream. “I was a teacher... a priest in a Catholic school?” But that didn’t explain the flying broomsticks. 

Then again, it was a dream. It wasn’t supposed to make sense. He snorted as he flung back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, momentarily disoriented anew when he realized he wasn’t in his own bedroom. He was in Rhys Lewis’ guest bedroom, which was plain but comfortable -- much better than staying in a hotel. 

The only drawback was that it threw him into close proximity to Rhys, who was tall and handsome and maybe not quite as straight as Seth originally thought. That wouldn’t be a problem except Seth couldn’t see himself settling down happily with a small town sheriff, no matter how sexy he was. 

Yawning, he stood up and stretched, then ambled to the small adjoining guest bathroom to shower, shave, and dress. They still had more questions than answers about the murders, and Seth was ready for that to change today.

* * *

Time seemed to drag as Rhys went about his normal duties, dealing with all the normal ups and downs that comprised his day. He usually had no problem concentrating on the various issues that came up, like parking tickets, arguments about property lines, unruly teenagers, and, of course, the ever-present drunk tank and its occasional occupants. But he found himself distracted, unable to concentrate, his eyes drawn to the clock or his watch often enough for Greg Wilson, one of his deputies, to ask if Rhys was anticipating a hot date that night.

Rhys snorted and shook his head, telling himself the incessant clock watching wasn’t going to make the day go any faster or shorten the time it would take for Seth to return from Raleigh. It was ridiculous for Rhys to find himself obsessing over someone he’d just met, but there was something about Seth that kept Rhys fascinated.

He really did feel as though he understood Seth in some strange way. It wasn’t love at first sight, but there was a chemistry between them that was unlike anything Rhys had ever felt with anyone else. Whether that chemistry could lead to something more was a question Rhys found himself mulling over constantly throughout the day.

Everything had gone well the previous evening. They’d talked through dinner, then returned to Rhys’ house. It was oddly intimate, having Seth in his home, but he rather liked it. He’d had trouble falling asleep, and he lay awake for a long time, thinking about Seth in the room next door. Rhys had an almost overwhelming urge to go to Seth’s room and check on him, but he didn’t want to creep Seth out and drive him away. 

Once he’d finally fallen asleep, he’d had weird dreams. He was in a dilapidated house, one he didn’t recognize, full of rubbish and broken furniture. Nothing actually happened, but the sense of foreboding he felt was worse than if the dream had been full of axe murderers or monsters. It was a feeling of having no control, of bad things lurking just out of sight and beyond reach, things he couldn’t stop no matter what he did. 

Fortunately, the creepy house dream had faded into a dream about green fields and a huge lake under a warm spring sun. It was such a relief that he’d even accepted the oddity of some tentacled creature waving from the water with its many arms as perfectly normal. After that, the brooding Gothic castle in the distance seemed almost mundane.

All thought of odd dreams had been driven from his mind, however, when Seth emerged from the guest room, incredibly appealing despite the rather grumpy expression he wore. A large mug of coffee had helped clear that up, and Seth had enjoyed the pancakes and bacon Rhys had fixed for breakfast. Seth obviously wasn’t a morning person, but that didn’t put Rhys off at all, and he’d felt bereft when he’d bid Seth goodbye and watched the receding taillights as Seth headed back to Raleigh.

Rhys wasn’t even certain Seth would be returning that same day, unfortunately; it would all depend on what Seth’s boss had to say and how long it took him to wrap up any outstanding business. Yet Rhys found himself glancing at the station door every time it opened, hoping to see Seth walk through it and start making snippy observations about the lack of modern amenities.

It was a completely unrealistic expectation, and he knew it; it was over five hours back to Raleigh, then however long it took Seth to deal with things, then the drive back. Seth had left quite early, but Rhys knew it was likely to be the next day before Seth returned. 

When the clock finally indicated the end of his shift, Rhys locked up his desk and headed back home. He filled some time by cooking himself a dinner he didn’t really want before going to the guest room and making sure the bed was made for Seth’s return. After that, with little else to occupy him, he changed into sweatpants and a tank top, settling down on his sofa with the case files for all three murder cases, making himself go over each and every scrap of information they contained, looking for any clue that might help him identify the murderer.

It was going on eleven o’clock before he heard the bolt lock on his front door clicking, and he glanced up see Seth walk in, looking tired as he dragged in a large rolling suitcase. 

“I thought you’d be in bed.” Seth closed and locked the door behind himself. “You weren’t waiting up, were you?”

“No,” Rhys replied, although he admitted to himself he wasn’t being entirely honest. He rose, tossing aside the case files and crossing to Seth. “Need any help? Are you hungry? I made barbecued ribs for dinner and there’s plenty left over.”

Seth’s growling stomach answered for him. “I wouldn’t say no to some ribs,” he admitted. “I got something to eat when I got to Raleigh, but I drove straight through going and coming. I wanted to get back as soon as possible.” 

“Leave the suitcase, and come into the kitchen,” Rhys said, leading the way, secretly pleased that Seth was in a hurry to return. “Is it too late for sweet tea? If you don’t want the caffeine, I have lemonade.”

“No tea.” Seth rubbed his eyes wearily as he headed to the kitchen with Rhys. “Water, maybe. Or a beer, if you have it?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course. Have a seat and I’ll fix you a plate.” Rhys gestured toward the table, then went to the fridge, retrieving two bottles of beer, opening them, and handing one to Seth. Then he set about fixing a plate of ribs and homemade baked beans, warming it up in the microwave before adding a generous serving of coleslaw. He carried the plate and some silverware to the table, placing it in front of Seth before taking the seat across from him. “Eat up. You look like you could use it.”

Seth picked up a rib, making appreciative noises as he ate. Once he took the edge off his hunger with a couple of ribs and some coleslaw, he reached for his beer. “You made this? Really?”

“Yeah. I like to cook.” Rhys shrugged, although he was pleased Seth liked the food. “Most of the shows on TV are crap, but I like watching the cooking networks. The chefs made it seem interesting and easier than I thought, and I found out I wasn’t bad in the kitchen.”

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to stay with you after all,” Seth drawled. “You cook like this for me on a regular basis, and you’ll be rolling me out of here by the time this case is solved.”

Rhys found himself wanting to say something about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach, but he bit back the words, not wanting Seth to think he was pushing too hard too soon. Instead he smiled. “Oh, I doubt that. You’ve got that kind of lean build I’ve always envied. I bet you can eat all you want and never gain a pound. I have to work out regularly, or I’d end up like one of those Southern cops they always make fun of in the movies with a spare tire around my waist as well as in my trunk.”

Seth gave an amused snort. “Sure, ten, fifteen years ago, I could eat like a horse. Ever since I hit thirty, though, it seems like my metabolism has slowed down more and more every year. Where do you work out? I may have to mooch a guest pass, especially if you keep feeding me so well.”

“There’s a gym down the street from the station. I’ll show you tomorrow,” Rhys replied. He leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of his own beer. It was far too appealing to think about Seth being flushed and sweaty. “Yeah, hitting thirty was a bit of a wake up call for me, too. My folks started hinting around that I should be more ambitious, maybe look for a job in a bigger city or run for sheriff. They didn’t seem to understand that I liked being a deputy. It was… comfortable. I guess I thought I’d be Allen’s sidekick forever.”

“As long as you’re happy, everyone else can take their opinions and fuck off,” Seth replied with a shrug. “I hope you aren’t letting anyone else influence your decisions.”

“No, I’m not.” Rhys hesitated, then decided there was no reason not to be honest. “I admit to feeling a bit of guilt about it since I’m disappointing them in another way as well. I’m an only child, and my parents were pretty supportive when I came out. I know they want me to be happy, but I think they also wanted grandchildren to dote on. But I don’t let them or anyone else determine my actions. They don’t live my life. I do.”

“Nothing good ever comes out of letting yourself be someone else’s pawn,” Seth said grimly as he took a long swallow of beer. Then he shook his head. “Sorry, I’ve always had strong feelings about that for some reason. Anyway, you could always adopt when you find Mr. Right, if you want kids. If not, that’s fine too. I’m lucky enough to have two older siblings who have obligingly provided grandchildren, so I’m not disappointing anyone by being single, gay, and childless.”

Rhys smiled, secretly pleased at the confirmation that Seth shared his leanings. He’d been almost certain that was the case, but having it acknowledged was all for the good. Not that Rhys was certain what, if anything, he was planning to do about it, but at least it meant his options were still open.

“I envy you that,” he said. “I’m not averse to the possibility of adoption, but it would definitely have to wait until I find a partner. Which is rather problematic, given the sparse population of this area. There’s a rather lively gay community in Asheville, but I haven’t had time to cultivate much of a social life.”

“That’s too bad.” Seth studied him intently for a moment. “You strike me as the type who ought to have a hot, hunky partner -- a cop, a firefighter, someone like that -- and at least two big dogs running around. You seem like the home and hearth type.”

“I suppose I am in a way,” Rhys replied. “But I don’t want to get involved with a cop or a firefighter; I know the dangers and stress inherent in the job too well. Besides, I’m not into muscular hunks, to be honest. I’ve always found intelligence and intensity to be far sexier.”

Seth gave him an arch smile. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Rhys didn’t look away, his gaze frank. “What about you? Somehow I think the hot, hunky type is more your preference. Maybe someone you can feel safe relinquishing your formidable self-control to.”

Seth glanced away and cleared his throat, a hint of pink staining his cheeks. “Something like that...”

The reaction gave Rhys more than a little satisfaction. “Well, I hope we both get what we want,” he said quietly. 

“Who knows what fate has in store for us?” Seth shrugged and turned his attention back to his food, making short work of the ribs, beans, and slaw. 

Rhys somehow knew not to press further. “Did you have enough? Or would you like another beer?” he asked, rising to his feet. 

“No, that was just enough to help me sleep.” Seth picked up his plate as he stood up as well. “You cooked, so I can wash up. I don’t mind pulling my weight around the house since you’re letting me use your guest room.” 

“All right,” Rhys replied easily. “Just rinse the plate and put it in the dishwasher. I run it every couple of days. Would you like me to put your suitcase on your bed?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” Seth nodded gratefully as he headed to the sink. 

“Not at all.” Rhys looked at Seth for a moment, then added casually, “At least it makes all that working out useful for something.” 

With that, he left the kitchen, returning to the living room to retrieve Seth’s suitcase. If Seth really did like the hunky type, Rhys didn’t mind flexing his muscles a bit. He wasn’t sure if anything would happen between them, but he found himself growing ever more hopeful that it would.

* * *

“Hey, Chief, I carried out that search you wanted.”

On his way to his office, Rhys stopped at Fred Walker’s desk. “Good,” he said, moving to peer over Fred’s shoulder at the computer screen. “What did you find?”

“Unfortunately, not much.” Fred shrugged slightly. “I checked with all the motels in the county, but none of them reported anyone suspicious staying for a short time around the dates of the murders. I ran the names of all the guests since the week before the Harris boy was found, but everyone seems to check out. That doesn’t mean someone suspicious wasn’t around, though. After all, people can still get fake IDs despite everything the government does to stop it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rhys clapped Fred on the shoulder. “Well, it was worth a shot. Tell you what, though, why don’t you take Andrea and start checking out the campgrounds? For the ones on Federal lands, you’ll need to check individual campsites. I want to know about anyone you find at all suspicious.”

“Got it, Chief,” Fred replied. “We’ll start right away.”

Rhys nodded, then turned and continued toward his office. He and Seth had come in together that morning, but a call from the County Commissioner’s Office, summoning Rhys to a meeting, had pulled him back out before he’d even had a chance to log in to his computer. That meeting hadn’t been terribly comfortable, since the Commissioner wanted answers Rhys didn’t have; all he could do was offer assurances that they were doing everything possible and that the Commissioner would be the first to know when there was a break in the case.

Fifteen minutes later, he was engrossed in answering his emails when a knock on his doorframe made him glance up. Seth was standing there, and Rhys found himself smiling at the welcome sight. “Hey, come on in. I hope your morning is going better than mine.”

“Actually, I’m about to make your day much better.” Seth’s answering smile was smug as he sauntered into Rhys’ office and sat down, tablet in hand. “I got the results of our mystery murderer’s DNA test.” 

“Oh?” Rhys sat up straighter, eager to hear what Seth had learned. “What did you get?”

Seth tapped the screen of his tablet, his long fingers dancing gracefully, then he glanced up at Rhys. “I sent you a copy. You can run it through whatever databases you have to check for matches. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get a hit if our guy has any kind of history. His DNA is... unusual.”

“Oh? How so?” Rhys pulled his eyes away from Seth’s hands, forcing himself to look at the computer screen. Seth’s email popped up in his inbox, and he clicked on it. “Please tell me it’s something we can use to identify him easily.”

“Oh, definitely.” Seth frowned and shook his head. “I’ve never seen combinations of SNPs like this before. I didn’t even think it was possible.” 

“Really?” Rhys downloaded the attachment Seth had sent him, then submitted it to the FBI database, crossing mental fingers he’d get a match. He leaned back in his chair, looking at Seth thoughtfully. “I’m no scientist, but that sounds rather ominous. You’re sure the DNA you got is human?”

Seth sat up straight and fixed Rhys with an affronted look. “Of course!”

Rhys quickly held up a placating hand, and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Seth, but I had to ask. I wouldn’t know the difference between a polecat and a person when it comes to those kinds of things.” He paused, frowning thoughtfully. “Though I wonder… just how close are people and something like chimps? There was a case in Virginia a couple of decades ago where a grown chimp attacked a woman and literally ripped her face off. Those animals can be vicious, and they’re definitely big and strong enough as adults to do the kinds of damage we’ve seen.”

“No, trust me, I already double-checked myself,” Seth replied. “I’m sure the DNA was human, not chimpanzee.”

“Good enough for me,” Rhys said. “I guess at this point I’m grasping at anything reasonable. The Honorable Charles Fromer, our esteemed Commissioner, isn’t too pleased at the thought of a serial killer wandering around the county. He asked me at least ten times if it really couldn’t have been a bear or maybe a pack of wolves.”

Seth gave a derisive snort. “He should be more concerned about what’s _really_ going on before he loses more constituents who might have voted for him.”

“We’re in agreement on that,” Rhys replied. There was a imperious beep from his computer, and he looked at it, seeing the results from the FBI were available. “Ah, my search for a match for our killer is finished... keep your fingers crossed.”

He opened the database results, then gave a sigh of frustration. “No luck. Our killer doesn’t match any DNA from known felons.” He moved to the second page of the report, then sucked in a breath. “But we _did_ get a hit against an unidentified DNA sample from a death in Tennessee about twenty years ago!”

“The odds of another killer having those same genetic markers are slim to none,” Seth said grimly. “f you ask me, I think we can safely assume our killer has been at this a while.” 

“But there was only a single case in Virginia… or maybe one is all they found.” Rhys frowned thoughtfully. “It doesn’t bring us any closer to making an identification. But at least it’s something. I think I’m going to have to go pay a visit to the Cocke County Police and see what files they have about the case.”

“I’d be interested to know how many ‘animal attacks’ they have on record around that time,” Seth replied. “For that matter, I’d like to see the records on that _here_ as well. Just because you found the bodies these past three months or so doesn’t mean the killer hasn’t been in the area longer. If we can find a reasonable pattern -- decrease of deaths attributed to animal attacks in Cocke County versus an increase in the same here -- we can pinpoint about how long the killer has been active here. It might open up some previously closed cases, don’t you think?”

“It’s worth looking at,” Rhys agreed. He turned back to his computer, typing quickly. “There, I’ve gone ahead and given you an account on our system so you can search the case files yourself. I’m going to email the Feds to see what data they have for Pisgah. They ought to know for the whole National Forest, which would save me having to contact every municipality it touches. In the meantime, I’m going to drive out to the Qualla. The Cherokee tribe would have its own records for anything that happened on the reservation, but it’s better if I handle the request in person.”

“If the situation calls for tact and diplomacy, I’d probably better stay here and start checking the records,” Seth said dryly. 

Rhys chuckled. “That’s fine, I can handle it.” He picked up a notepad and wrote down his account information. “You can use my computer while I’m gone, if you’d like. It’s quieter in here than being out in the main room.”

“I’d like that, thanks.” Seth favored him with a rare small smile. “Will you be back before the end of the day?”

“I should be back,” Rhys replied. Seth’s smile warmed him, and he wished that he dared to see if that smile tasted as good as it looked. But it was far too soon for that, so he rose to his feet. “I put a roast in the crock pot before we left the house this morning. If you’d like, we could catch up over dinner?”

“Sure.” Seth stood up as well and tucked his tablet under his arm. “Maybe I’ll run down the street and pick up some wine to go with it. I think we’ll probably need it.”

Rhys moved around his desk, stopping beside Seth, looking down at him with a smile. “Sounds good. Meet me back here at around five, then?” 

Seth tipped his chin up so he could meet Rhys’ gaze, and he didn’t move even though Rhys was quite close -- close enough to feel something humming between them, drawing them together. 

“Will do,” Seth drawled, a husky edge in his voice. 

Rhys stood frozen, unable to tear his gaze away. He felt as though he could drown in Seth’s dark eyes, and he wanted more than anything to move even closer, to see what would happen if he touched Seth. He might have done it, too, if Fred Walker hadn’t stuck his head into the office.

“Chief? Uh… sorry, I just wanted to tell you that Andrea and I are about to head out.”

Rhys immediately stepped back from Seth, feeling more than a little annoyed at Fred, but he simply nodded. “Fine, I’m about to leave myself.” He glanced at Seth again. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later.” Seth nodded as he skirted around the desk and sat down in Rhys’ chair, turning his attention to the computer. Rhys looked at him for a moment longer, then turned and reluctantly headed out the door.

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything, Chief,” Fred said, walking along beside him. 

“No, it’s fine. There was nothing to interrupt,” Rhys replied. But that was something he hoped to be able to change before too long.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Seth had tried to shake the disturbing images from his dreams all morning without much success. Hours later, they were still vivid. It had all seemed so _real_ , and he’d woken up disoriented, his hand lifted as if to aim a wand. It had taken him a minute or two to realize he was safe in Rhys’ guest room, not in the middle of the strangest battle he’d ever seen. 

He’d spent the morning trying to dispel the unsettled feeling that still lingered no matter how many times he told himself that it was just a weird dream. Rhys had shot concerned looks at him and asked if he was all right. He’d blamed it on lack of sleep and not enough coffee, but it was more than that. He couldn’t shake the disconcerting feeling that what he’d dreamed had actually happened somehow, even though that was impossible. 

By the time they were on I-40, headed to Tennessee, Seth was getting sick of going around and around in his own head. 

“Have you ever had a dream so vivid and realistic that you had trouble forgetting it?” he asked at last, turning to Rhys in hopes that talking about it would help him get rid of the odd aftereffects of his dream. 

For a long moment, Rhys was quiet, but Seth noticed that his hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Yes,” he said finally, turning his head to give Seth a quick, searching look. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I had one last night,” Seth replied bluntly. “It was disjointed at first, or maybe I forgot some pieces. It was almost like a highlight reel of someone’s life, but it was the nightmare version.” 

He paused, turning his attention back to the scenery outside the car windows as he tried to figure out how to explain his dream. 

“It started with me following some people. They were wearing dark robes and masks, and they were carrying sticks. They were chasing someone. Another man in robes. I thought they were going to try to hit him with the sticks, but then one of them pointed their stick at him. I saw this weird green light shoot out the end of it, and the man just crumpled. Somehow I knew he was dead. Then I was in a battle. Not with guns, but with magic. I remember an older woman confronting me. She looked furious, but I don’t know why. All I know is there was fighting going on everywhere in this castle, inside and out. Then I was in some run-down shack, and the last thing I saw was a huge snake lunging right at me. It was about to strike me with these huge fangs when I woke up.” He lifted his hand and rubbed his throat absently, then glanced at Rhys with a wry smile. “Weird, huh?”

Rhys shook his head slowly. “No, not really,” he said, then glanced at Seth again. “I dreamed about being attacked last night, too. Only in my dream, it was a huge gray wolf. It had the biggest teeth I’ve ever seen, and it grabbed me by the shoulder, slinging me from side to side like it would a rabbit, like it was trying to break my neck. Then there was this big, ornate Gothic place, and some woman was rushing me toward this tree that was moving, waving its branches like arms. Then I was in a rundown room, and there was pain… even more pain than when the wolf bit me. That’s what woke me up -- the feeling that every bone in my body was breaking all at once.”

“What did you put in that pot roast?” Seth shook his head, morbidly amused that they’d both had nightmares on the same night. 

That made Rhys chuckle, although his expression didn’t lighten. “I don’t think it was the pot roast. I think it’s this case, Seth. I don’t know about you, but these are some of the most brutal killings I’ve ever seen. We’re chasing a serial killer -- a _real_ monster. Is it any wonder our subconscious minds are conjuring up nightmares of death and pain? We’re probably both going to need counseling after this is over.”

“That and a nice, long vacation in Tahiti,” Seth muttered. Right now, the idea of lounging on a beach while pretty young men brought him drinks sounded really good. 

“Or the Bermuda Triangle,” Rhys replied absently. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I just hope we catch this guy before he kills again. The leaders out at the reservation were cooperative, but they didn’t have any information for me. One of the elders even started talking about a beast that haunts the Pisgah called an Uktena. Some kind of man-eating serpent who charms its victims with a big jewel in the middle of its forehead before making a snack of them.”

“Interesting, but not very useful,” Seth agreed. “Our killer is definitely not trying to impersonate a snake. He’s trying to be one of the big predators -- a bear, a bobcat, a wolf -- something like that.” 

“Definitely. I did some reading last night about serial killers,” Rhys said grimly. “I was wondering why he doesn’t drag his victims deeper into the woods before killing them or at least move the bodies to where they can’t be easily found. Modern tracking is good, but the national forest is a big damned place, so he didn’t have to make our jobs easier by leaving the bodies where we could find them. But the articles I was reading said that a lot of serial killers _want_ to be caught.”

“Really?” Seth regarded Rhys with interest. In his line of work, he needed to know how to coax secrets out of the dead, so the motives of the living who committed the crimes he saw the results of tended to be a mystery to him. 

“Yeah, that surprised me, too. It has to do with bragging rights. They think they’re so clever, outwitting the authorities, but after a while, they need to have their crimes acknowledged.” Rhys grimaced. “I can see the psychology of that, but you know, I believe evil really does exist. Anyone who enjoys the suffering of others is truly evil.”

“I wonder if that’s the case with our guy,” Seth mused. “Maybe he’s been doing it so long that he’s decided it’s time he got some recognition or maybe he’s gotten careless because he thinks he won’t get caught.”

“It could be.” With another sigh, Rhys shook his head. “In a way, I want this lead in Cocke County to work out so we get more information, and maybe we can catch this guy. But in a way I don’t, because that probably means we’ve had a killer living among us for decades and no one ever suspected.”

Seth understood how upsetting that possibility could be in a small community. What if the killer was someone Rhys knew? It might shake his confidence as a law enforcement officer to find out someone he’d been friendly with for years was a killer and he never saw any clues. 

“That’s how it works out sometimes,” he pointed out, even though he knew it would probably be cold comfort. “We still don’t know who Jack the Ripper was or who killed the Black Dahlia. It’s no one’s fault.” 

Rhys nodded, but he still looked unhappy. They were both quiet for a while, and then Rhys left the interstate and headed down the main street of Newport, Tennessee. It bore a rather strong resemblance to Waynesville, being almost the same size and looking just as much as if the modern era had passed it by in favor of more important places.

The police station, too, was remarkably similar to its North Carolina counterpart, and Rhys breezed inside with Seth following in his wake. He introduced himself, produced his badge, and after a brief conversation with the Sheriff, the two of them were shown into a small room with rows of filing cabinets along the walls.

“We’ve never gotten around to digitizing the older cases,” Sheriff Sinclair said apologetically.

Rhys laughed and waved one hand. “I think all little towns are in the same boat. But you have the file I emailed you about?”

“Yes, and the coroner’s records,” the sheriff replied, pointing to two folders in the middle of a small table. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll leave you to it. Just ask if you need anything else.”

“Thanks, we’ll do that,” Rhys replied. He gestured to one of the chairs. “Go ahead and have a seat. Why don’t we start with the coroner’s report first? If this really is our same guy, do you think you’ll be able to tell?”

“Of course,” Seth replied confidently as he took a seat. “All the victims I’ve seen so far share distinct similarities, especially how he never touches their faces.”

Rhys settled down into the seat beside Seth and scooted the chair closer, close enough that Seth could feel the warmth radiating from him. “So why don’t we take a look?”

Seth pulled the two folders over and flipped open the coroner’s report, trying valiantly to ignore how close Rhys was sitting and the effect it was having on him. He slid the written report over to Rhys and concentrated on the photos instead, examining them closely for the telltale markers of their killer. 

“I think we have a match,” he said at last. 

“Really?” Rhys’ eyebrows rose, and he leaned closer, examining the photos. “Well, what do you know! Deep down, I was sure this was going to be another dead end.” He looked back at the police report, then pointed to a line in one of the witness statements. “Look at this! The victim was talking to his wife on his cell phone at the time he was attacked! He was stopped on a back road with a flat tire and called home to tell her he was going to be late. She said she heard a howl in the background, before there were snarls and growls, and her husband screamed. Oh, God… the poor woman. It looks like she heard the whole attack.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” Seth grimaced as he sat back in his chair, puzzling over this new information. “If the killer was howling and growling at his victim, he must have some kind of animal fixation. He really is trying to turn himself into a predator, and he’s hunting his prey.”

“Sure sounds like it,” Rhys agreed. “Apparently the animal sounds were convincing enough that the DNA evidence was sort of brushed aside. It went on file, but the case was chalked up to an animal attack. The technology they had for testing back then was considerably more primitive than what we have now. What do you want to bet the anomalies you found were enough to convince the investigators that it was badly corrupted or maybe not even human at all?”

“I’d bet you’re right,” Seth replied. “But I wonder what made our guy move from here to Haywood County. It doesn’t look like he was in any danger of getting caught here, so what motivated him to leave his territory?”

“I don’t know.” Rhys ran his hand through his hair. “We don’t even know when he might have moved. But maybe Sheriff Sinclair will have records of anyone unusual in the area at that time. It could be there were more murders here, ones where the bodies were never found. After all, people go hiking in the mountains all the time, and there’s a chance some of the folks who disappeared were victims of our killer.”

“I’m sure of it,” Seth replied. “If this killer has been hunting for decades, he’s racked up a higher kill count than we can account for, even if he only hunts once a month.” 

“Twenty years, twelve times a year…” Rhys looked grim. “Although it is possible he didn’t find victims every month -- or at least I hope so. There are fewer campers in the winter, as you can imagine, and only the hardiest souls venture up there in the late fall and early spring, even without snow on the ground.” He paused. “I wish we had more hard evidence, enough for me to go to the Feds and have them shut the park to campers until we catch this guy.”

“So do I.” Seth put the files back in order and closed the folders. “Let’s check with the sheriff about any unusual visitors in the area. I’d also like to see if he has any idea of what might have happened in this area to cause our killer to move elsewhere.” 

“Right. Maybe we can question the witness, too, if she’s still alive.” Rhys rose to his feet. “This is the first real break we’ve had. Maybe our luck will hold out.”

Seth pushed back his chair and stood up as well, offering Rhys a slight smile. “We make a pretty good investigation team.” 

Rhys looked at him for a long moment. “I think we make a pretty good team in a lot of ways, Seth,” he said quietly. Then, with a small smile of his own, he turned and headed for the door.

Seth watched him go, surprised and puzzled by that response, but he stopped himself from asking Rhys what he meant. Instead, he followed Rhys in silence, for once listening to the little voice that told him he didn’t really want to know.

* * *

Rhys looked around the small motel room, then gave Seth a rueful smile. “Well, at least it’s clean,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t mind sharing? I mean, we could drive back to Waynesville tonight and then come back here tomorrow if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m sorry I didn’t think to make reservations, but it honestly never occurred to me that a little town like this would hold an event that could fill up the available rooms.”

“It’s the collard festival, and you thought we’d find a room?” Seth drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words. “If you made me miss the parade with the collard queen, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I wouldn’t dream of making you miss the biggest social event in the county!” Rhys replied, laying one hand over his heart. “Besides, I have it on good authority that Cocke County produces some of the finest illegal moonshine in Tennessee. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a drink of real, honest-to-God White Lightning.”

Seth dropped his overnight bag on the double bed closest to the tiny bathroom, then turned to Rhys with one eyebrow raised. “Sheriff Lewis, are you encouraging me to engage in illegal activities?”

“Now, Dr. Snyder, would I do something like that?” Rhys asked, giving Seth an innocent look. “I merely imparted two interesting facts about our current location. As a public service, you know. We small town hicks have to stick together, the better to coax money out of the rich city slickers.”

“I’m sure if I wasn’t so tired, I could come up with a brilliantly scathing remark about kickbacks and corruption,” Seth replied as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Anyway, to answer your question, I’m fine with sharing, assuming you don’t snore or sleepwalk. I’d rather not waste time driving back and forth when it’s not necessary.” 

“I promise I don’t sleepwalk or snore,” Rhys replied, crossing his heart. He moved to the other bed, putting his own overnight case down on the garishly flowered bedspread. “Thank you for being so practical. I’m with you. I’d rather not waste time. Mrs. Peters said she could meet with us first thing in the morning, so it saves us having to get up long before dawn to drive back here. She’s our best hope for finding out anything about who might have killed her husband.”

“Exactly.” Seth cleared his throat and glanced around. “So... I guess we should turn in?”

“If you’re ready, sure.” Rhys gestured at the bathroom. “You can have the first shift, if you’d like.”

“Thanks.” Seth grabbed his bag and clutched it like a shield as he got up and headed into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind himself. 

Rhys couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he opened his own case, wondering if Seth was shy under his forthright exterior. Of course, for his own part, Rhys couldn’t help but wonder if Seth looked as good out of clothes as he did in them. Given the way Seth was acting, however, he doubted he’d get the chance to find out.

He pulled out his laptop, booting it up and settling in to deal with the emails from his office which had piled up while he’d been out playing detective all day. There was an email from Fred, indicating that there had been no leads so far in his canvassing of the campgrounds, but Pisgah was a big place. Rhys sent him a response, telling him to keep at it, and while he was at it, to ask the campers to report anything unusual they ran across, like signs that someone had set up a camp outside of the permitted areas. Then he started through the more mundane communications, making certain he didn’t overlook anything of importance.

When he heard Seth turn on the shower, however, he found it harder to concentrate. He had no right to imagine Seth naked, running a soapy cloth over his body, but the image refused to be banished from Rhys’ mind. He gave a growl of frustration, shifting in his chair as his body voiced its approval of his fantasies. His attraction to Seth continued to grow stronger, but he wasn’t certain what he should do about it. Sometimes he thought he caught flashes of an answering attraction from Seth, but Seth didn’t seem inclined to act on it. Given how direct Seth was in other ways, Rhys wasn’t sure if that indicated Seth thought Rhys wasn’t worth pursuing, or if there was something about Rhys’ job or personality he found off-putting in some way. 

Finally, Seth emerged from the bathroom wearing his usual flannel pants and t-shirt sleepwear, toweling off his damp hair with one hand. He dropped his case on the floor next to his bed and sat down, scrubbing the towel over his hair harder with both hands. 

“It’s all yours,” he said, glancing over at Rhys. 

“Thanks.” Rhys smiled, then rose and retrieved the sweatpants and tank top he preferred to sleep in, as well as his toiletry bag. He retreated into the bathroom, trying hard not to think about standing in the same space where Seth had just been naked.

He focused on showering quickly, then drying off and dressing before he brushed his teeth. Ready at last, he returned to the bedroom, glancing at where Seth relaxed in bed, reading something on his tablet. 

“All done,” he said, wondering if Seth’s cheeks were actually flushed, or if it was a trick of the light. “Do you want to read for a while? It won’t bother me if you do.”

“No, I’m good.” Seth closed his tablet cover and set it aside on the nightstand. “I was just checking email.” 

“Oh, okay.” Rhys pulled back the covers of his bed, slipping between the sheets and fluffing up the annoying flat pillows. He laid back, then rolled over onto his side, facing Seth, and propping his head up on his arm. “If you have any more disturbing nightmares, I don’t mind if you wake me up. I’d rather you did, instead of laying there sleepless. All right?”

Seth rolled over, mirroring his posture, and fixed him with a stern look. “You too.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Rhys replied, grinning playfully at him. “I’m likely to scream like a little girl.”

Seth let out a derisive snort. “Here I thought you were a big, badass cop. So much for that!”

“I’m plenty badass, I’ll have you know!” Rhys bared his teeth in a ferocious growl. “See? I’ll protect you from the killer, don’t worry. Running from danger is your job, not mine.”

“As long as I can count on you to have my ass -- I mean, my back -- if we run into trouble, we’ll be fine,” Seth replied, his cheeks turning pink again. 

Giving in to a wicked impulse, Rhys waggled his brows. “I’ll have any part of you that you see fit to share,” he replied. Although his tone was light, giving Seth room to dismiss the words as a joke, Rhys meant them. 

Seth looked momentarily flustered, but he rallied quickly, sticking his nose in the air. “That might be a little more than you can handle.” 

“You never know unless you try,” Rhys said smugly as he rolled onto his back. “Goodnight, Seth. Sweet dreams!”

“Good night,” Seth replied grumpily, reaching out to switch off the light.

Rhys chuckled, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off. He was quickly pulled into sleep -- and then he began to dream.

He found himself walking along a corridor paved in stone that had a patina of great age. The walls were stone as well, with torches set in sconces providing the only illumination. His steps were oddly encumbered, and when he looked down at himself, he saw that he wore some kind of long, brown robe. The hem look ragged, and there were several patches and mended places. 

He continued, his dream-self apparently knowing where he was going, since he turned down an intersecting corridor. Finally he stopped in front of a wooden door and raised his hand to knock.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, thin man with lank, dark hair. The man scowled down his prodigious nose at Rhys’ dream self. 

“You’re late, Lupin!” he snapped as he stepped aside. “I have better things to do with my time than to wait for you, you know.”

“I know, Severus. I’m sorry.” The voice that replied came from Rhys, but he didn’t recognize it as his own. The accent sounded British, and the tone was tired, almost defeated. “I was in charge of detention and only just finished.” A feeling of weary resignation seemed to weigh Rhys down, but underneath it was something worse: dread. He didn’t know whether he dreaded his visit to this man or something worse, but a weight pressed down on him, as though the passing of each minute was bringing him closer to something he had no desire to face.

Severus swept past him imperiously and moved to a large cauldron. Picking up a goblet, he ladled out a bubbling hot liquid and filled the goblet. “You’re lucky this is still warm,” he said as he held out the cup, and his long, slender fingers brushed against Rhys’ as Rhys took the cup from his hand. 

Rhys shivered slightly at the contact -- but not from revulsion. His dream-self was not only grateful to Severus, but there was an undercurrent of wistful attraction, as well as a certainty that nothing would ever come of it. 

“Thank you, Severus,” he replied, then lifted the cup to his lips and drank. It was an odd dichotomy, his dream-self, this Lupin, whoever he was, accepting the horrid-tasting brew with gratitude and downing it without complaint, while Rhys, knowing he was still himself in some way, wanted to gag. He passed the goblet back to the stern-faced Severus, and Rhys thought about how well that name seemed to fit the man. There was a frown line between his intense dark eyes, and his lips seemed perpetually drawn down in disapproval. Or perhaps it was only Lupin who displeased him.

He held the goblet back out. “Again, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, I hope,” Severus replied with a haughty, disapproving sniff.

“Yes, Severus.” The words were soft, as though he couldn’t find the energy to raise his voice much above a whisper. “Have a good night.”

There was a flash of something -- pain? yearning? -- in Severus’ dark eyes before he whirled away in a dramatic swirl of his robes. “Just get out of my sight, Lupin. I have work to do.” 

With nothing more than a nod, Rhys turned back for the door. As he laid his hand on the latch, however, he turned, watching Severus for a moment. It was definitely wistfulness this time, and he had a brief flash of a wish to turn, stride strongly across the room, push Severus against a wall, and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. But instead of doing it, he turned back, opened the door, and slipped out, before closing it silently behind himself. Then he started walking back the way he had come, the weight of dread settling back upon his shoulders.

The dream changed then, and Rhys sighed. He didn’t know what was coming, but he didn’t think he was going to enjoy it very much.

* * *

The first dream wasn’t so bad, although Seth didn’t understand why Severus was being such a dick to Lupin when it was obvious Severus wanted him. Seth could feel Severus’ longing, buried under thick layers of anger and resentment. The dream was a strange slice of life without any context, and he found himself curious about what Severus had given to Lupin and why Lupin was so grateful for it. 

But no answers were forthcoming, and then that dream faded into another. Seth’s dream self was different this time -- much younger, a teenager at most -- although he still wore long black robes. 

This time, he was walking outside, the crisp night air filling his lungs as he strode purposefully toward a tall tree. Anxiety knotted his stomach, although he had no idea why, and his breathing grew rapid and shallow as he reached the tree, which bent and swayed of its own accord, its branches blocking him from getting closer. 

But he knew how to make it stop, and he did, and the next thing he knew, he was creeping along a narrow underground passageway. He wasn’t sure how long he traveled along that passageway, using his wand for light, but eventually, he reached the end and found an unlocked wood door. It opened easily for him, and he stepped into a dusty, ramshackle room. 

Severus knew this place. “The Shrieking Shack,” he whispered. 

Something stirred, and a voice came from the vicinity of a tattered sofa. 

“Severus? No… no! You can’t be here! Go away!”

He whirled and lifted his wand, seeking the source of the voice, and he saw a familiar form curled up naked on the couch. He took a step closer, peering at the man his dream-self knew as Lupin. Only it wasn’t the same Lupin he’d just seen. This Lupin was younger too; his face wasn’t lined with care, and his eyes weren’t yet world-weary. The light from his wand let Seth see Lupin clearly, his skin pale and scarred. He looked ill -- and he looked terrified as he gazed up at Seth. 

Severus felt an overwhelming urge to go to Lupin -- to comfort and help him -- but he didn’t do it. Seth got the impression that he felt like he _couldn’t_ , although Seth had no idea why. 

“I came here to learn the truth,” he heard himself say gruffly. “Perhaps now you’ll give me some answers.”

But Lupin shook his head violently. “GET OUT!” he screamed, wrapping his arms around himself as though he were trying his best to disappear. “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT BEFORE I KILL YOU!”

Seth recoiled, shocked by the vehement outburst, but he rallied quickly, aiming his wand at Lupin. “You’re too weak to even try!” 

“Then kill _me_ ,” Lupin begged. His blue eyes were full of horrified pain. “ _Please_ , Severus. Please kill me, because I’m dead anyway if you stay.”

Seth could feel Severus’ confusion as he stared at Lupin. “What...?” 

“KILL ME!” Lupin screamed, but the final word was drawn out into a sound of agony unlike anything Seth had ever heard a human throat produce. 

Lupin convulsed, his back arching with a horrifying crack of breaking bones. It was as though invisible hands were twisting him, with sickening pops and crunches as limbs were pulled from their sockets and tendons snapped. And all the while, the boy shrieked as if he felt the pain of all of it.

Every instinct Seth had was screaming at him to run, but he was frozen, unable to do anything but watch the hideous transformation. _Finally_ , he regained control of his limbs and began to move, whirling and sprinting for the door. The screams morphed into growls, and he could hear heavy feet on the floor behind him. The boy he knew was gone, replaced by a bloodthirsty monster -- and he was its prey. 

He wanted desperately to wake up, but his dream-self kept running, finally reaching the tunnel. He heard heavy, panting breaths and something big running behind him, saw the figure of a person ahead of him -- 

\-- and he sat upright in bed with a desperate gasp, fumbling anxiously for the light. He felt better as soon as the lamp was on and he could see the dingy little motel room, although his heart was still pounding. There was no way he could even think about going back to sleep after that, so he turned to Rhys, intending to wake him up as promised. 

But Rhys suddenly sat up as well. “NO!” he screamed, turning to look at Seth with wide eyes full of horror and fear. His face was pale, his brow beaded with sweat, and he was breathing hard as though he’d been running. After a moment, the panic left his eyes, and he raised a trembling hand to wipe at his brow. “Just a bad dream… God. I’m sorry, Seth. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was about to wake _you_ up,” Seth replied, shaking his head. “I had one hell of a nightmare myself.” 

Rhys threw back the covers and rose to his feet, looking agitated. “God, I hope it was nothing like mine. I found out that getting attacked by a monster is nothing compared to _being_ the monster.”

Seth flung back his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, watching Rhys pace. He was still rattled by his own nightmare, but he thought maybe talking about it and hearing about Rhys’ would help calm them both down enough so they could get some sleep and be functional in the morning. “Tell me about yours.” 

Grimacing, Rhys stopped walking, looking at Seth intently. “You sure you want to hear this?”

“It can’t be that much worse than mine,” Seth replied pragmatically. “Besides, if we get it out of our heads, it might help us shake it better.”

Rhys looked doubtful, but then he shrugged. “There were two parts to it. The first wasn’t bad, just weird. But the second part… I was lying in a room. It was dark, and cold, and I was young -- little more than a kid. And naked. I thought at first I was being abused, because I had this sense of dread. I _knew_ something terrible was going to happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But then it got worse, because this other kid came in. It was the same person from the first part of my dream, but he was younger, and I knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. I have never felt anything like the horror I felt at seeing him standing there, because I knew he was going to die, and I was going to be the one to kill him if I couldn’t get him to leave.”

Seth grew wide-eyed as he listened, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. It was crazy -- impossible -- but the similarities were too great to ignore. 

“Did he say he was there to learn the truth?” he asked hoarsely. 

“How in the hell did you know that?” Rhys looked at him in disbelief. “Yeah, he did, and I screamed at him to leave, but he wouldn’t, and so I told him to kill me.”

“And then you turned into a werewolf and chased him.” Seth pushed his fingers through his hair, staring at Rhys in disbelief as he tried to make sense of the situation. “I know what happened in your dream, because it’s the same thing that happened in mine.”

“What?” Rhys shook his head. “That’s not possible!”

“I know how crazy it sounds, but it’s true,” Seth insisted. “I dreamed I walked down an underground tunnel and ended up in some abandoned house. There was a young man in there -- naked, covered in scars. He was terrified when he saw me, and he begged me to leave. I wouldn’t, so he wanted me to kill him before he killed me, but I didn’t know what he was talking about until he started to transform right in front of me.” 

Rhys sank down onto the edge of Seth’s bed. “This is… weird. Really, really weird,” he muttered. “I don’t understand.” He turned his head, looking at Seth with blue eyes dark with worry. “Do you think it’s some kind of hallucination? Or suggestion? Maybe one of us was talking in our sleep while we dreamed and the other picked up on it somehow?”

“Even if it was just suggestion from one of us talking in our sleep, we wouldn’t have had dreams that match up so well,” Seth replied, shaking his head. “Our minds would have interpreted things differently. But it sounds like our dreams lined up exactly, right down to the details. In fact, we can prove it. In the dream, my name was Severus, and the other man’s name was Lupin. Is that true in your dream too?”

“Yes.” Rhys bit his lip, frowning in thought. “Okay, so we shared a dream. If we accept that it happened, however it happened, the next question is… why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Seth shrugged and spread his hands. “All I know for sure is that I’ve dreamed about this Severus guy on three different nights -- all since I came to Haywood County. He’s never showed up in my dreams before. Lupin hasn’t either.”

“The same for me. Dreaming about Lupin, I mean.” Rhys fell silent for a moment. “Well, we know it isn’t my cooking, since we ate here tonight. I don’t believe in psychic powers, so I don’t think one of us is projecting into the other’s head. Maybe the stress of this case is getting to both of us in the same way.”

“It could have something to do with the case, given we both dreamed about a werewolf,” Seth replied slowly, although he wasn’t convinced even as he said it. Working on the same case about a man who tried to make his victims look like they had been mauled by an animal was enough to give them both nightmares, sure, but not enough to give them the exact same dream. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

Rhys shook his head. “Trust me, I’d like to believe that… but like you said, the names being the same is just far too much for coincidence. It has to mean something that we’re both having repeated dreams about the same people.” He looked at Seth somberly. “This has never happened to me before, not until you came here. Has anything like this ever happened to you?”

“No, never,” Seth paused, mulling over the facts, weird as they were. “The timing is interesting, don’t you think? I start dreaming about Severus, who knows Lupin, and you start dreaming about Lupin _after_ we met. If this is our subconscious way to deal with the case, then why am I a wizard? You being a werewolf kind of makes sense, if we’re drawing parallels to the murders. But a _wizard_?”

“I think the timing is everything,” Rhys said softly. “I don’t think this is about the case, except maybe in the sense that the case is why we met. I think this is about _us_. You and me. I don’t know what it is or why, but for some reason we’re doing this together.”

Seth drew back and peered at Rhys quizzically. “What does it have to do with us?”

Rhys’ gaze was steady, holding Seth’s. “Lupin… he was attracted to Severus. I felt it -- his longing, his wistful sadness at knowing he couldn’t have the person he wanted.”

Seth swallowed hard, unable to look away from Rhys’ intense blue gaze, and he felt an odd fluttering in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Severus was drawn to Lupin, too. When he saw Lupin in that room, all he wanted to do was help. I don’t know what stopped him. I _do_ know he was kind of an asshole,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“Lupin lacked any sort of confidence or belief in himself,” Rhys said. He continued to look at Seth. “You know, you resemble Severus in some ways. Same coloration, same intensity, but you’re far more handsome than he was.”

Seth couldn’t help but smile a little at that, pleased despite himself that Rhys thought he was handsome. His first thought was that he shouldn’t bother being flattered since there was no point in getting caught up in a fling that wouldn’t go anywhere. His second thought was _why couldn’t it go somewhere?_ And that set off a little flare of panic. He couldn’t possibly consider getting involved with a small town lawman... could he? 

What would be so bad about it? He liked Raleigh, but Asheville was nice too, and it wasn’t a bad commute from here... and he was getting _really_ ahead of himself. A better first step would be to let go of the idea that he and Rhys Lewis were a bad match and open himself up to the possibilities. 

“You resemble Lupin too, but you’re taller and better looking,” he admitted at last. “He looked tired and sickly.” 

Rhys smiled slightly. “Okay, so we’re both sharing a dream about men who look a little like ourselves, who apparently had -- or have -- an emotional attachment they didn’t act on. Oh, and they’re British, too. Let’s take a leap into the bizarre and accept that for some unknown reason, we’re in a situation where we are connected to these two men and also to each other. It still doesn’t explain the whole bit about wizards and werewolves. Severus gave Lupin a potion. It tasted foul, yet Lupin was actually grateful for it. What does _that_ mean? Is there any relationship to this case, or is _that_ the part that’s just a coincidence?”

“It _has_ to be allegorical. Severus and Lupin can’t possibly be real people, so we have to assume they’re symbolic representations of our subconscious minds,” Seth pointed out. “Maybe the potion represents what I’ve brought to the case. You didn’t want there to be a serial killer, so the ‘potion’ tasted bad to Lupin.” 

“You’ll probably think I’m nuts, but I believe they _were_ real people,” Rhys said softly. “It’s hard to explain, because I could feel what Lupin felt, but I still knew I was me the entire time. Yet the pain... That was real, Seth. Lupin’s pain, I felt it as though it was my own body, felt his bones breaking and being reformed.” He rubbed distractedly at his arms, as though remembering the agony. “I don’t think any dream, allegorical or not, can do that.”

“Dreams can be very realistic in some ways.” Seth shook his head, still unconvinced. “Besides, if you want to argue that Severus and Lupin are real, then you’re arguing that magic and monsters actually exist in the real world.”

“Yeah.” Rhys sighed, and rubbed at his face with one hand. “That’s the hardest thing to accept. I don’t understand any of it, which bugs me. But real or imaginary, I guess the question is, what do we do about it? Are we going to keep having these dreams or visions or whatever they are for the rest of our lives?”

“Maybe they’ll go away once we’ve solved the case,” Seth suggested.

“Maybe… and maybe not.” Rhys turned his body toward Seth, then slowly and deliberately raised one hand, his warm fingers brushing Seth’s cheek. “Maybe this whole thing is a big hint to act on the things we feel, instead of denying them.”

Seth’s eyes widened as he stared at Rhys, the touch of Rhys’ fingers leaving a trail of heat on his skin. Against his better judgment, he wanted to lean into that touch, throw caution to the wind, and see what happened. He wasn’t much of a risk taker; he preferred to think things through and make plans before taking action. But a voice in the back of his head -- snarky, with an English accent -- was telling him not to be an idiot. 

“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Rhys’. 

Rhys returned the kiss, sliding his hand around to the back of Seth’s neck. He gave a small growl of satisfaction and shifted closer, resting his free hand on Seth’s thigh and squeezing gently. The growl sent pleasurable shivers down Seth’s spine, and he slid his arm around Rhys’ waist as he parted his lips, inviting more. 

It was an invitation Rhys seemed eager to accept. Rhys deepened the kiss, tasting Seth, exploring his mouth as though seeking to memorize every detail, pulling Seth closer against his warm body. Seth went willingly, tightening his arm around Rhys as he surrendered to the kiss -- to Rhys. Heat kindled in his belly and spread throughout his body, leaving him flushed with growing need. 

Seth suddenly felt himself being lifted and settled into Rhys’ lap. Rhys’ fingers combed through his hair, while the kiss continued, Rhys’ lips becoming more demanding as he gave another growl deep in his chest. Sliding his arms around Rhys’ shoulders, Seth clung to Rhys and silently offered to give whatever Rhys wanted to take, low moans escaping him. Rhys’ show of strength and forcefulness called to him, making him want to roll over and bare his throat -- figuratively or literally, whichever Rhys wanted. 

Rhys seemed intent on reducing Seth to complete mindlessness. He ran one hand down Seth’s torso, then pushed it up under Seth’s t-shirt, caressing the taut skin of his stomach. But after a moment, Rhys drew back, looking at Seth with a chagrined expression.

“As much as I hate to stop, I have to admit I didn’t come prepared,” Rhys said huskily. “Unless you just happened to pack condoms and lube, I think we might need to stop before we end up even more frustrated than I think we’re going to be.”

It took a moment for Rhys’ words to permeate the haze of lust clouding Seth’s mind, but once they did, he drew back reluctantly. “All my supplies are at home in Raleigh. I thought this was going to be a purely business trip,” he admitted.

“Yeah, so did I.” Rhys smiled wryly, moving one hand to caress Seth’s cheek again. “Look, Seth… I don’t know what’s happening with these dreams we’re having. I don’t know what they mean or if and when they’re going to end. I don’t know what about them might be real… but I do know that the attraction I feel to you is real. I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel it, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either.”

Seth turned his gaze downward while he considered how much to say about his reservations. He supposed if they were going to keep going with whatever this was, he ought to be completely honest and upfront from the beginning. 

“I’m attracted to you too -- obviously,” he said with a little snort. “I’m not really interested in a fling. Those days are behind me. But I’m not sure how well things would work out between us if we tried for something long term. There would have to be a lot of compromising, I think.”

Rhys’ brows rose. “I don’t do flings, either,” he said softly. “But I’m very good with compromise. I have this feeling you’re worth any sacrifices I might need to make.”

Seth gave him a dubious look. “You barely know me,” he pointed out. “I’m a workaholic, I’m grouchy in the morning, and I like having things my way. I’m also very stubborn and opinionated -- although not quite as much of a dick as Severus seems to be.”

“Well, I can’t say I think Severus is in danger of winning Miss Congeniality, but there must be something good about him for Lupin to want him as much as he does.” Rhys smiled playfully. “I think I’ve gotten a pretty good read on your morning personality, as well as your stubbornness and your forthright personality. I know you’re intelligent, dedicated, and persistent in finding the truth, all of which are traits I find attractive. You’re also sexy as hell, and I’m attracted to you in ways I haven’t been to anyone else in a long, long time. Seems worth a few sacrifices to me.”

The flattering description prompted Seth to lean in and kiss Rhys again. It was a nice change from hearing words like “difficult” and “bull-headed” aimed at him. 

“You say that now...” he murmured against Rhys’ lips. 

Sliding his hands into Seth’s hair again, Rhys kissed him back slowly, but pulled back with a sigh. “I say what I mean. If we had certain necessities on hand, I’d happily show you just how sincere I am. Besides, there’s still that feeling I have, like I know you and understand you. It’s something I’ve never felt about anyone else before, but I trust it. And I trust you.”

“I trust you too,” Seth whispered, surprised by how much he meant the words even as he said them. “I don’t know why, but I do.” 

Rhys kissed him again, firmly but quickly. “You’re going to turn my head, Dr. Snyder,” he said softly. “Thank you for telling me that. Look… we don’t have to make any decisions tonight. I get the feeling you’re the kind of man who likes to take things slowly and be certain of your choices before you make them. Shall we see where things go while we work on this case? I’m not going to pressure you. I’ve always had this incredible aversion to people being forced into decisions just because it’s what someone else wants _for_ them.”

“I’m fine with that,” Seth replied, relieved that Rhys didn’t want to rush into any major decisions, especially not when they were both being influenced by lust. But something told him that they would keep moving forward, even if it was at a slow pace, and he was fine with that too. “Well, if we can’t have sex, can we at least share a bed?” he asked hopefully. “Maybe if we’re in closer proximity, those nightmares won’t come back.” 

Mostly, he didn’t want to go back to sleep and go right back into that horrible dream world, but at least a little sliver of his motivation stemmed from wanting to be close to Rhys.

The smile Rhys gave him was warm with affection. “I’d like that,” he replied. “All right, then, get under the covers and pick which side you want. See? Compromise.”

Seth didn’t waste any time in climbing under the covers and claiming the left side of the bed. He lifted the covers and beckoned to Rhys. “Hurry up, I’m getting chilly,” he mock-grumbled. 

With a chuckle, Rhys slipped between the covers. “I’m giving you fair warning. I don’t snore, but I do like to cuddle. Think you can bear it?”

Seth raised one eyebrow at him. “Do I get to be the little spoon?”

“If that’s what you prefer,” Rhys said. “Roll over.”

Seth immediately rolled onto his side with his back to Rhys. Rhys pressed up against him, flinging one arm across Seth’s waist and pulling him firmly back against his big, warm body. “Is this okay?” 

With a contented sigh, Seth nestled against Rhys, enjoying the feel of Rhys’ solid body against his. He felt cozy and secure -- more so than he had with anyone else. 

“It’s fine,” he murmured, closing his eyes and relaxing in Rhys’ embrace. 

Rhys gave a hum of satisfaction. “Good. I like it, too.” Seth felt Rhys’ lips press against the back of his neck. “No more nightmares,” he said softly. 

If feeling safe was enough to ward off bad dreams, Seth was certain he wouldn’t have anymore that night. He surrendered to sleep willingly, and his last conscious thought was _I could get used to this._

* * *

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with us, Mrs. Peters. I hate to bring up painful memories, but we could really use any information you might have.”

Alma Peters, an attractive woman in her sixties, smiled slightly as she ushered Rhys and Seth into her living room. “It’s all right, Sheriff Lewis,” she replied, gesturing for them to be seated. “Twenty years is a long time. I still miss Jason every day, but if his death wasn’t really an animal attack, I want to know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rhys nodded, settling down on the sofa and taking out his tablet. He glanced at Seth, giving him a smile before sternly reminding himself to keep his mind on business. “We read the police report, and it said that you heard the entire attack over your husband’s cell phone. Are you certain you heard no human voices other than his?”

Drawing in a breath, Mrs. Peters shook her head. “No, I only heard Jason’s voice,” she said softly. “Then the awful howling and growling sounds, and Jason screaming…” She shivered, the memory still disturbing despite her assurances. 

“Did the howling and growling sound truly animalistic to you, or was there anything about what you heard that sounded unusual?” Seth asked.

“It definitely sounded like an animal,” she replied. “I’ve lived around here all my life, and I’ve heard a lot of different critters. I know they said there aren’t any wolves around here big enough to have caused Jason’s injuries, but it sounded like a wolf to me.”

Rhys looked at the notes he’d made from the police file. “Okay, you didn’t hear anything to make you suspect a person was involved. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over the events leading up to the attack. Your husband called you because he’d gotten a flat tire. The report said he’d spent most of the day with a friend who lived only a couple of miles from where the attack happened.”

“Yes. Jason had gone over to help his best friend, Mark Dawes, with taking out a big oak on Mark’s land that had been struck by lightning. They worked all day on felling the tree, but they stopped as it started to get dark. Jason called to tell me he was on his way home, then called again, perhaps ten minutes later, when he got the flat.”

“So it would have been fully dark by then?” Seth asked. 

“Yes, it was definitely dark,” she replied. “In fact, Jason was concerned about it, because he was grumbling that he hoped he’d left a flashlight in the trunk so he’d have enough light to see to change the tire.”

“And what about Mark Dawes?” Rhys asked, keeping his tone carefully neutral. “Your husband had known him for a long time?”

“Oh, yes. Jason and Mark had known each other since grade school,” Alma Peters said. “They’d always been close, and Mark was best man at our wedding. Mark’s wife Sheila is one of my good friends as well.”

“Was Sheila there the night Jason died?” 

“Yes. In fact, she and Mark were eating dinner when I called in a panic because of what I’d heard on the phone. Mark immediately went out to look for Jason. He was the one to find Jason’s body.”

Rhys glanced at Seth, trying hard not to let his disappointment show. It had seemed so fortuitous that they’d found a lead, but now it didn’t seem to amount to anything. He’d had a passing thought that Mark Dawes could be connected to Jason’s death, but it sounded like that wasn’t the case. But he still had the feeling there had to be something they were missing, some question they hadn’t asked or a piece of information they were overlooking.

“Did Mr. Dawes ever mention anything unusual about that day?” Seth leaned forward, his expression intense. “Any information you might have, no matter how insignificant it might seem, could be useful.” 

“Unusual?” Alma frowned in thought. “No… I mean, they had a few beers while they worked on taking out the tree. Mark said Jason was joking about how he should sell the tree to one of those new age places in Asheville.”

“What?” Rhys blinked at the apparently non-sequitur. “Why?”

“An old wives tale. You’ve never heard it?” She smiled when Rhys shook his head. “Oak trees that are killed by lightning supposedly have magical properties.”

The mention of magic sent a shiver down Rhys’ spine, and he looked at Seth with a raised brow before turning to Mrs. Peters once more. “Anything else?”

“No… I don’t think… oh, wait. Mark did tell me something a few months after Jason died. He said he felt guilty that he hadn’t called the cops before Jason left his house, because if he had, maybe Jason wouldn’t have gotten the flat or been attacked. While he and Jason were working on the tree, they spotted someone in the woods, back on Federal land. They thought the guy might be homeless or maybe even drunk or high because he looked pale and sick, and he was running around shirtless.”

Seth reared back, looking startled. “Pale and sick?” he echoed. “You wouldn’t happen to know about how close to the scene of attack they were when they saw him, would you?”

Alma considered the question. “Maybe three miles or so? At least by road. I’d have to look at a map, but perhaps only two miles straight through the woods.” She looked between the two of them. “You don’t think he could have been involved in Jason’s death, do you? Mark said the guy looked like he could barely stagger around. They called out to him and tried to offer help, but Mark said he yelled at them to stay away from him.”

“Mr. Dawes said the man was shirtless. Did he mention seeing any scars?” Seth asked, a rough edge in his voice. 

“How did you know that?” Alma’s eyebrows rose. “Do you know who he was? Do you think he could have killed my husband?”

Rhys was pretty sure he knew where Seth’s mind was going with that question, but they couldn’t talk about it here, and he didn’t want to give Alma the wrong impression. 

“No, we don’t know him,” he replied. “We’ve seen someone who might fit that description, but he was nowhere near here. It has to be a coincidence. Drunk man staggering around the woods… trust me, I’ve arrested more than one person like that in the last ten years.”

Seth glanced sidelong at Rhys, growing fidgety. “I don’t have anymore questions if you don’t.” 

“No, I think that covers everything.” Rhys rose to his feet. “Thank you, Mrs. Peters. We appreciate your help.”

Seth practically sprang out of his chair. “Yes, you’ve been very helpful.” He grasped Rhys’ elbow and tugged. “Shall we go now?” 

“All right.” Rhys put his tablet away, then with a final nod to Mrs. Peters, he let Seth drag him out the door. Once they were walking toward the car, he paused. “Hey, slow down. Take a couple of deep breaths, okay?”

“Pale, sickly, scarred -- that’s exactly how Lupin looked right before I saw him transform!” Seth exclaimed. “I was convinced our dreams were just fantasy, but what if you’re right and they were real? That means we really could be looking for a _werewolf_!”

Rhys stopped in his tracks, turning and putting his hands on Seth’s shoulders. “Think about what you’re saying,” he said softly. “You’re a man of science. It can’t really be possible… can it? Are we looking for explanations and letting our imaginations run amok because we aren’t finding them?”

“We have DNA evidence that suggests our killer isn’t a normal human,” Seth pointed out. “I’m not saying I believe in magic all of a sudden, but I can’t discount the similarities between the description of the man Dawes saw in the woods and the man I saw in my dream either.” 

“Are you saying you think Lupin is our serial killer?” For some reason, Rhys almost couldn’t get the words out. The very thought made him want to scream out a denial of his own.

Seth looked startled at that, and he shook his head. “No, that hadn’t occurred to me. If Lupin is real... if he’s still alive... I don’t think he would let himself stay anywhere near other people when he transformed. Unless something happened to turn him vindictive, I can’t see him being our killer. He was too desperate for Severus to go away. He would have died rather than hurt someone.” 

Rhys almost sagged in relief. “Yes, yes, he would,” he replied, then lifted his hand and ran it through his hair in agitation. “Would you listen to us? I don’t know what’s weirder: that we are talking like our dreams are real or that I find myself actually considering the possibility that we’re looking for a werewolf.”

“You’re the one who said you thought Severus and Lupin are real people,” Seth retorted. “Whether they are or not, how is considering the possibility that our suspect is a werewolf any more bizarre that us having exactly the same dream at exactly the same time?” 

“I don’t know.” Rhys shrugged. “Maybe because there could be a rational explanation for sharing a dream, but magic, werewolves… that is beyond rationality. I admit a part of me wants to believe it. Maybe already does, but I don’t know if I might want a monster from a fairytale to have done this because the thought of it being a man, maybe someone I know, would be too horrible to consider.”

“If the killer has been in your area long enough, you might know him. It doesn’t matter if he’s a man or a werewolf,” Seth pointed out. “I suppose, though, it might be easier to accept if there’s some supernatural reason behind it, one that takes the killing out of his control, rather than having to accept that someone you know is capable of ripping apart his victims like an animal.” 

“I think I’d kill myself before I’d be the cause of so much death and horror.” Rhys shook his head. “Look, we have a lead, one that _is_ real. Whoever or whatever the man in the woods is, he’s the one thing we’ve found that might be a connection between Jason Peters’ death and the deaths in Haywood. So we have to follow up on that lead, don’t you think?”

“Of course.” Seth regarded Rhys inquisitively. “Any ideas on where to start?”

Rhys pulled out his phone. “I think the first thing we need to do is talk to Mark Dawes. I want a description of the man he and Jason Peters saw. If that’s our killer, we need to know everything he remembers, no matter how trivial.”

“Do you think they’ve got anyone around here who can create a visual based on the description?” Seth asked. “If not, I can make a call to Raleigh and get someone here.”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.” Rhys quickly dialed the Newport police station and spoke briefly with Sheriff Anderson. After hanging up, he smiled grimly at Seth. “My fellow officer of the law has offered to call Mark Dawes and ask him to come by the station, and Newport has a rather good sketch artist on call. Shall we get back to town and see what we can find out?”

“Yes, I’m eager to hear a first-hand description myself,” Seth replied as he headed over to their vehicle. 

Rhys was quiet as they drove back into town. He was torn between excitement that perhaps they’d learn something that would lead them to their killer and fear that they were headed down another dead end. At the same time, there were still so many unanswered questions, not only about the murders but about whatever was happening between him and Seth.

Fortunately they didn’t have long to wait. Mark Dawes arrived at the station a mere thirty minutes after they did. Even though he was a little surprised about their interest in what, to him, seemed a minor, unconnected incident decades in the past, he cooperated, recalling what he could about the man he and Jason had seen. The artist produced a sketch based on the description, and Rhys looked down at the pale, rather non-descript face and the scarred yet muscular body. He couldn’t help glancing at Seth and raising a brow, wondering if the man resembled Lupin at all.

Seth moved closer so he could get a good look at the sketch as well, but he didn’t react to it; he merely scrutinized it for a minute before glancing up at Rhys. “I wonder if we could compare this sketch to mug shots. That might narrow down the pool somewhat.”

“We can try.” Rhys glanced at Mark Dawes. “Do you mind helping out with that? Are you sure there are no other details you recall?”

“I’ll help as much as I can,” Mark replied, running his hand through his graying hair. “I always did wonder if I should have called the cops about the guy, but really, I felt kind of sorry for him, you know? He looked so sick and miserable, and vets have always had a hard time of it.”

“Wait… vet?” Rhys straightened, fixing Mark with an intent gaze. “How do you know he was a vet?”

“What?” Mark glanced up from his own perusal of the sketch, looking confused. “Oh! Funny, that only just came back to me, you know? He had a tattoo on his right arm. Not a big one, really, but I recognized it. It was the All Americans symbol. You know, from the 82nd Airborne, out of Ft. Bragg. I recognized it at once, because my brother was a member, too.”

Rhys felt an electric tingle of excitement. “Forget the mug shots. If this guy was a soldier, we’ll be able to find him.”

Seth’s features brightened as well, and he smiled that rare small smile. “Yes, we will. Thank you, Mr. Dawes. You’ve been a great help.” 

“Sure, let me know if I can do anything else.”

Rhys wanted to pick Seth up and spin him around, but he managed to restrain himself. “Give me five minutes to put together a letter, then we’ll send a copy of the picture to Ft. Bragg. With any luck, maybe we’ll have a name by the time we drive back to Waynesville.”

“I hope so,” Seth replied fervently. 

It took only the promised five minutes for Rhys to write the email and get the sketch scanned, and he felt a sense of anticipation as he thanked the sketch artist and Sheriff Anderson. Then he dropped a casual arm around Seth’s shoulders and guided him from the station.

They were getting closer, he could feel it, and he hoped when they found the killer, the other nagging questions about what was happening to him and Seth would be answered as well.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

The drive back to Waynesville was uneventful, and they were both eager to get back in hopes that a report from the military would be waiting for them. But when they arrived at the police station, Fred Walker regretfully informed them that nothing had come through yet. 

“They’d at least let us know if they didn’t find anything at all, right?” Seth asked, disappointed by yet another delay. 

“I’m sure they would,” Rhys replied. “I guess I got my hopes up, too, but there are a lot of records they’d have to search through, since all we gave them was a time frame, a sketch, and some rough details.” He gave Seth a rueful smile. “We’ll need to be patient, I’m afraid. I know that’s not exactly one of your main characteristics.”

Seth raised one eyebrow. “Are you talking to me or Severus? I happen to think I can be patient.” _When I have to be_ , he added silently. 

Rhys moved to stand in front of him, putting his hands on Seth’s shoulders. “I’m always talking to you,” he said softly. “Never think that I’m confusing the two, all right?”

“I couldn’t really blame you if you did,” Seth replied with a little shrug. “It can get a little confusing, living a double life in the waking and dreaming worlds.”

They were alone in Rhys’ office, a fact to be grateful for because Rhys suddenly leaned in and captured Seth’s lips in a swift, hard kiss. When he straightened, he was smiling playfully. “Lupin would never have had the courage to do that to Severus, now would he? Nor would Severus have accepted it -- no matter how much he secretly might wish to.”

“No, Severus wouldn’t have accepted it. He is... _was_ too proud.” Memories of the huge snake lunging at him right before he woke up crowded Seth’s mind, and he wondered if Rhys had dreamed about anything like that. “Have you had a dream about Lupin’s death?”

Concern flared in Rhys’ eyes. “No, I haven’t, but that transformation was bad enough. I take it you’ve dreamed about Severus’ death?”

“I’m pretty sure I did.” Seth nodded and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering a little at the memory of the snake. He didn’t see Severus die, so he couldn’t confirm it, but somehow, he was certain nonetheless. “He was attacked by the biggest snake I’ve ever seen. I didn’t see him die, but I _know_. Which probably sounds crazy,” he added, grimacing. 

“No crazier than the way I know Lupin turned into a werewolf,” Rhys replied softly. He wrapped his arms around Seth. “Look, we’ve done all we can do today. Shall we go home? I think maybe we need to talk about this.”

Seth slid his arms around Rhys’ waist in return and leaned against him, enjoying the warm, solid strength of Rhys’ body. “Well, we can’t really do anything else until we hear back about the military records, so we might as well. We could probably use some down time anyway.” 

“True enough.” Rhys pressed his lips to Seth’s temple. “Come on, then. I’ll make us some dinner and we can decompress.”

“Or we could stop and get a pizza at Bocelli’s,” Seth suggested. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how domestic the conversation was sounding -- like Rhys’ house was already _his_ home as well. In the past, such a realization might have made him run for the hills, but he found he didn’t really mind this time. It felt comfortable and right, and he wasn’t inclined to run. “We don’t need anything to drink, just the pizza and maybe some garlic knots. Then we can both start decompressing right away.”

“If that’s what you’d like, I’m certainly not going to complain.” Rhys tightened his arms for a moment, then released Seth and stepped back. “Come on, then. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get that pizza.”

Seth gestured toward the door. “You’re driving.”

“Right -- which means I can speed with impunity.” Rhys laughed, then caught Seth’s hand and dragged him out of the office. 

Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the driveway at Rhys’ house. Rhys got out of the squad car, then moved to Seth’s side, opening the door so Seth could get out with the pizza. Rhys’ stomach rumbled loudly. “Come on, I’m starved!”

“I noticed,” Seth replied dryly as he got out and went to the door, warm pizza box in hand. He was getting hungry himself, and the scent of garlic wafting from the box of hot garlic knots on top wasn’t helping. “You get the plates,” he added once they were inside and heading for the kitchen. “I’ll get us something to drink. Do you want tea, soda, or beer?” 

“Beer,” Rhys answered at once. He moved to retrieve plates and napkin, then met Seth at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Do you want to eat at the table, or shall we be decadent and sit on the sofa?”

“Let’s take our hedonism all the way and go for the sofa.” Seth retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge and popped the caps off, trying not to read too much into the fact that he knew where Rhys kept his bottle opener. He picked up the smaller box of garlic knots with his free hand. “Can you get the pizza?”

“The muscles aren’t just for show,” Rhys replied, picking up the box and following Seth into the living room. A few minutes later, they were settled in, the food on the sofa table in front of them. Rhys took an enormous bite of his slice of pizza and sighed in contentment. “This was a great idea.”

“Of course it was.” Seth gave Rhys a smug look before starting on his own slice. After they’d taken the edge off their hunger and Seth was feeling pleasantly mellow from the beer, he nudged Rhys with his shoulder. “What did you want to talk about?”

Rhys drained his beer, then put the bottle down on the table before turning so he could look at Seth directly. “Lupin and Severus,” he said quietly. “And you and me, for that matter. What you said earlier about whether I was talking to you or Severus, then you saying you’d experienced Severus’ death. I’m wondering what you think that might mean.”

Seth finished off a garlic knot and washed it down with beer as he mulled over the question. “I don’t know exactly,” he admitted at last. “All I know is that the dreams about Severus have been the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had before, and I remember them almost like they were memories instead of dreams. They feel so _real_. When I’m in the dream, _I_ am Severus. It’s like I’m living scenes from his life.” 

“That’s how I feel with Lupin, too,” Rhys said slowly. “I still know I’m me, but I’m him, too.” He paused for a moment. “Have you seen anything in any of your dreams to indicate what kind of timeframe Lupin and Severus are in? I haven’t, but I find myself very curious. If you feel you lived through Severus’ death… maybe Lupin is dead, too.”

“No, everything I’ve seen has been like something out of a sword and sorcery movie,” Seth replied. “I think Severus lives in a castle. I haven’t seen anything that looked modern.” 

“Neither have I. I don’t know if Lupin lives in the castle, too, or in that horrible shack they were in. While I’m in the dream, I know what he knows in that moment, but I can’t get anything beyond that. But I’m wondering if there’s a way we can.”

“I’d like to find out more about them, if we can,” Seth admitted. “This whole thing has me curious about what the hell is going on with our psyches.” 

“Especially since neither of us experienced anything like it until we met,” Rhys agreed. “Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming? I ran across a reference to it years ago, in some research I was doing for one of my psychology classes.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know that much about it.” Seth shifted to face Rhys, regarding him quizzically. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Well, I’m assuming these dreams aren’t over yet. That there’s more to come. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so.” Rhys tapped his temple with one finger. “If we know we’re in the dream, maybe we can take control of it. If what we are experiencing are memories, we shouldn’t be able to change anything, right? But if they’re only dreams, maybe we can affect them. At least that might show us one way or another what we’re dealing with.”

“How do you do that?” Seth frowned and shook his head. “It seems something like that would take a lot of practice.”

“Maybe, with regular dreams,” Rhys said. “But we both agree, these aren’t like regular dreams. I’m going to try it and see if I can affect anything. Lupin is too passive, anyway. He needs a good swift kick in the butt.”

“So does Severus, but not because he’s passive.” Seth snorted, remembering how disdainful Severus had been of his students. They hadn’t seemed too fond of Severus either. “Okay, if I dream about Severus again tonight, I’ll give it a shot too.” 

“We never know until we try, right?” Rhys smiled at him, then reached out to caress Seth’s cheek. “I’m glad we aren’t them, you know. It seems like they spent decades wanting one another, but never acting on it.”

“That’s because we aren’t idiots.” Seth leaned into the touch, smiling slightly despite himself. He still wasn’t sure where this was going or what would come of it, but he wanted to find out. 

Rhys smiled back, leaning forward to touch his forehead to Seth’s. “I certain hope not. Though I think I might find it very easy indeed to make a fool of myself for you.”

“Oh?” Seth set his bottle aside and slid his arms around Rhys. “In what way?” 

“In every way,” Rhys said quietly. He framed Seth’s face with his hands, brushing one warm thumb over Seth’s lips. “I’ve never met anyone like you or who made me feel like you do.”

A pleasurable shiver rippled through Seth at the touch, and he pursed his lips against Rhys’ thumb. “This has been an unusual experience for me too,” he replied. “But I’m open to the possibilities.” 

“Good. Because tonight we don’t have to hold back.” Rhys’ voice was low and husky. “Tonight you can have anything you want.”

“Anything?” Seth’s lips curved in a wicked smirk as he gazed at Rhys. “That’s a dangerous offer to make, Sheriff Lewis.”

Rhys chuckled. “Ah, but I’m the one with the gun and the handcuffs, Dr. Snyder.”

“If you plan on firing your ‘gun’ at me anytime tonight, there needs to be less talk and more action,” Seth retorted. 

“If that’s what you want, you’ve got it.” Rhys rose, then scooped Seth up off the sofa and tossed him over his shoulder. 

Seth let out an indignant squawk over being manhandled, but it was a token protest. He clung to Rhys, loving that Rhys could pick him up and carry him so easily. The display of strength gave him naughty thoughts about being pinned to the bed. With any luck, Rhys would keep on using his strength even when they were horizontal. But if not, Seth would be sure to mention what he wanted -- several dozen times, if necessary.

* * *

Sated and happy with his arms wrapped around Seth, Rhys drifted off to sleep. Unfortunately, however, all of his contentment didn’t keep away the dreams.

It was dark, and he appeared to be in a courtyard. He heard shouting and running feet all around him, and there were strange flashes of light reflecting off of the stone walls. There were also cries of pain, some of which made Lupin wince even as he tried to focus on the man he was pursuing. It was difficult, trying to track his black-robed quarry without drawing attention to himself, but Rhys could feel Lupin’s determination, as well as the exhaustion and fear he couldn’t ignore.

Rhys was aware of himself, and he remembered he was supposed to try to take control of the dream. He focused on making Lupin move in a different direction, but it didn’t work. He tried forcing Lupin’s head to turn, but he couldn’t manage that, either. Growing increasingly frustrated, he attempted to make Lupin stumble, desperate to prove to himself that this really was only a dream, and that he was in control. But despite exerting his own will in every way he could think of, nothing caused Lupin to so much as slow down in his pursuit. 

Simply a passenger in Lupin’s body, all Rhys could do was watch as the man Lupin was pursuing stopped. Despite the lack of light, their eyes met across the distance between them. Rhys had seen the eyes of a killer before, and he recognized them in the face of the man Lupin now confronted. He tried shouting, telling Lupin to run, but it was too late; the man raised his arm, even as Lupin lifted his own. Two flashes of light lit the scene, then Lupin cried out in agony as he was blinded by a poisonously green light. A final, gasping breath escaped Lupin’s lips; by the time he struck the ground, Lupin was dead.

Gasping for breath, Rhys sat up in bed, his heart pounding. Beside him, Seth stirred and roused enough to reach for him. 

“Remus?” Seth murmured drowsily, not opening his eyes yet. 

The name Seth uttered made Rhys go still. He knew that name, even if he’d not heard it before -- just as he knew the deeper, accented tones of Seth’s voice. It was _Lupin’s_ name.

Rhys slowly lowered himself back down beside Seth, reaching out to smooth a strand of Seth’s dark hair back from his face. His heart was still beating too fast, and he swallowed hard before he spoke. “Yes, Severus?”

Seth sighed softly and shifted closer. He opened his eyes, but his faraway look revealed he was still caught in a dream. Reaching out, he touched Rhys’ cheek lightly, almost hesitantly -- a stark contrast to Seth’s bold assertiveness earlier. 

“I didn’t think I would see you again.”

Rhys wasn’t certain what was happening, and a part of him wanted to shake Seth awake, to force the specter -- if that’s what it was -- of Severus to leave him. But the memory of that secretive, longing glance Lupin had once seen in Severus’ eyes made him hold back, and he leaned into the touch instead. “Why not?”

Seth gave Rhys an exasperated look and rolled his eyes. “Because we both died, you dolt.” 

“Perhaps we were given a second chance,” Rhys replied. “Is that what you think?”

“I think we made such a colossal hash of things last time, we _had_ to have a second chance,” Seth replied, a tart edge in his voice, but he slid his arm around Rhys and tucked himself under Rhys’ chin. 

Rhys drew in a breath, but he wrapped his arms around Seth, holding him close. His throat felt tight, and his eyes prickled. “We won’t mess it up this time. I promise.” 

“Good,” Seth murmured drowsily. He released a long, slow breath, and Rhys felt him relax into sleep once more. 

It was crazy, the rational part of Rhys’ mind insisted, but in his heart, Rhys could no longer deny the truth. Maybe he’d known it all along, but hadn’t really wanted to face the truth. Somehow, he and Seth _were_ Remus and Severus.

Rhys wasn’t a very religious man, though he believed that good and evil existed, and now he had proof that souls existed as well. He didn’t know if it was a deity, fate, or karma that had stepped in, but something had. Not only had Severus and Remus been given another chance, presumably to live longer, happier individual lives, but they’d been given the chance _together_. Whatever issues had kept them apart in that strange life before, they didn’t face those same issues now, as though their dues in that regard had been paid in full. 

Of course, there was still the matter of a serial killer on the loose, but from the glimpses he’d had into the obstacles Severus and Remus had faced before, the problem seemed almost inconsequential in comparison. This time, they were working together. 

Caressing one hand down Seth’s back, Rhys pressed his lips to the top of Seth’s head, then closed his eyes and relaxed. _This time_ , he promised Seth silently, _we’re definitely going to get it right_.

* * *

Seth woke up to feel a warm, solid body pressed against his back and a heavy arm slung over his waist, a reminder that Rhys hadn’t been joking or exaggerating when he said he liked to cuddle, but Seth found it oddly comforting. 

He cracked his eyes open and peeked at the clock, which showed it was still early enough that they didn’t need to leap out of bed right away, so he was content to remain where he was, cozy and content, for a while longer. With a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes and nestled against Rhys, thinking it would be unnervingly easy to get used to waking up like this. 

Rhys shifted his arm and began to caress Seth’s hip. Warm lips pressed against the back of Seth’s neck.

“Sleep well?” Rhys asked, his voice deep and soft. 

“Not bad.” Seth bent his head to offer better access to his neck. “How about you?”

“That’s a bit complicated,” Rhys replied, nuzzling Seth’s neck gently. “It sort of depends on whether I’m waking up with Seth or Severus.”

Seth rolled just enough so he could look at Rhys without having to give up being in Rhys’ arms. “What do you mean?” he asked, frowning. 

Rhys’ gaze was intent, and he looked at Seth searchingly. “I had a… well, I’m hesitant to call them dreams any longer. When I woke up, you stirred, and you spoke to me… only it wasn’t as Seth. It was as Severus.”

“ _What_?” Seth rolled over to face Rhys fully, stunned by that revelation. 

He remembered dreaming about Severus, but he’d been alone. Severus had been in a different from the classroom Seth remembered seeing before. This room was smaller, but it had stone walls and was lit with torches, not electricity, and it was filled with shelves that held books and bottles and jars with bizarre contents. Severus had been at a table, chopping up something Seth couldn’t identify, pausing long enough to measure out the ingredients and toss them in a cauldron. It was the first time Seth could remember ever feeling anything close to contentment from Severus. He remembered that much, but he didn’t remember talking to anyone at all. 

“I dreamed about Severus,” he added, “but he was alone the whole time.”

Rhys hesitated before answering. “I don’t think you were dreaming,” he said. “You called me Remus, and your voice… it wasn’t yours. It was deeper, and you had that British accent. I wasn’t certain what was going on, but when I called you Severus, you accepted it. You told me you never thought you’d see me -- see Remus -- again. I asked why, and you said it was because we -- they -- were dead.”

A cold chill ran down Seth’s spine at that, and he couldn’t repress a shudder. “Are you sure _you_ weren’t dreaming?” he asked hopefully. He didn’t really like the idea that he wasn’t in full control of himself or that he had no memory of it. 

“Positive.” Rhys ran one hand down Seth’s side soothingly. “I’d just woken up from a nightmare about Remus’ death. That’s Lupin’s given name. I didn’t know until Severus called me that.”

 _Remus_. That name was familiar to Seth or perhaps it just felt right somehow. Either way, he knew Rhys was right about it being Lupin’s given name. 

“So I... he... who-the-hell-ever said they’re dead?” Seth felt cold inside, somehow knowing that was true as well. None of this made any sense, and yet it was starting to feel more and more real. “Did you find out anything else?”

“It depends on whether you want to accept the implications.” Rhys was quiet, giving Seth another searching look. “I asked if we’d been given a second chance, and Severus said we’d made such an incredible mess the first time that we _had_ to be given a second chance. So they’re dead… but they came back as us.”

If someone had asked if he believed in reincarnation prior to this case, Seth’s response would have been an emphatic no. He preferred to rely on hard, provable facts, not nebulous beliefs about past lives and karma. He liked answers, not mysteries, which was why he’d never thought too deeply about the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. There weren’t enough concrete answers to satisfy him, so he preferred to avoid the questions. 

But he couldn’t ignore this. 

Rolling onto his back, he scrubbed his face with both hands before looking at Rhys again. “That can’t be true,” he said at last. “If we’re the reincarnations of Remus and Severus, then that would mean magic and werewolves exist. Unless the dreams are allegorical representations of their lives, not literal ones... Ugh! I don’t know anymore.” 

“I don’t think it’s allegorical.” Rhys shook his head. “I don’t pretend to understand it, and I know it’s not rational, but just as I felt the pain of Lupin’s transformation when I dreamed about it, I felt something when Lupin was fighting for his life. He had a wand, just as you described, and he was battling someone, and when he threw a spell… I _felt_ it. A sense of power flowing through me, something I can’t really describe, but very real. I was conscious of being in Lupin’s body. I tried to take control of it, but I couldn’t. I’m convinced that what we’re experiencing aren’t dreams, but memories.”

“I know that feeling of power,” Seth admitted. “But I’m not sure I can accept the idea that magic is real without more concrete proof. If there were wizards and werewolves, we’d know about it by now.” 

“Would we?” Rhys shook his head slowly. “If they really _do_ have magic, why couldn’t they use it to hide from us? There must be millions or tens of millions of people who can’t do it for every one who can. They would _have_ to hide to protect themselves. Think about it, Seth. We like to think we know everything about the world, but we don’t. We try to rationalize everything so we feel as though we understand it, because if you understand something, you can control it. Who’s to say there isn’t magic going on all around us, and we dismiss it as being something totally mundane so we can remain in denial about how much we don’t know?”

“I don’t know.” Seth scowled and folded his arms across his chest. “And I don’t like that I don’t know. On the one hand, our killer has weird DNA. On the other hand... werewolves. I know I suggested that maybe we really were looking for a werewolf, but that was shock over the similarities between Remus and the man in the woods talking. Too much weirdness is piling up at one time, and I can’t shake the feeling it’s all connected somehow, even though I can’t come up with a rational explanation for it.”

Rhys moved, rolling over on top of Seth, his body pressing Seth down into the mattress. “I know there’s a lot happening that defies reason, but I hope you know that what’s going on between us… that’s real, Seth. What I feel for you are _my_ feelings. It has nothing to do with Remus and Severus. When we find out the truth, it isn’t going to change how I feel, no matter what.”

In the midst of all the turmoil and uncertainty, Seth found Rhys’ assurance comforting -- and found Rhys’ weight on top of him arousing. With a smirk, he rocked his hips provocatively. 

“Good to know,” he drawled as he slid his arms around Rhys. “Then again, if I had any doubts, feeling your dick trying to drill a hole in my stomach right now would erase them.” 

“Can I help it if you are the sexiest man I’ve ever seen?” Rhys growled, rocking his own hips in retaliation. Lowering his head, he captured Seth’s lips, kissing him hungrily.

Before they got any farther, the phone beside Rhys’ bed rang. With a sigh, Rhys lifted his head and reached for it.

“Lewis,” he said, his tone conveying more than a bit of his frustration.

Seth could hear someone speaking on the other end of the line, and Rhys drew in a breath, his eyes widening. “Thanks for letting me know. Don’t worry, we’ll let you know what we find out.” Rhys ended the call and grinned down at Seth, a light of excitement in his eyes. “The army got a match -- not only on the picture, but there’s some correlation with that DNA you recovered. Our boy got back from the Middle East about twenty years ago, and shortly after that, he murdered his entire family before disappearing.”

Seth sat up, excited by the news. “So we have a name?” 

“Sergeant Riley Franklin,” Rhys replied. He kissed Seth again, fast and hard, before rolling out of the bed. “They’ve emailed me a set of pictures and stats for him. I need to get into the station so I can put out an APB for him. The military will take jurisdiction if we capture him, but I don’t really mind. Leavenworth is not a nice place to be locked away for the rest of your life.” 

Seth didn’t waste any time throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed as well. “I’m going with you,” he said firmly. 

Rhys paused. “You don’t have to, you know. You did your part brilliantly, but now that we have a name, you can relax.”

“Are you kidding me?” Seth shot Rhys an exasperated look as he gathered up his clothes from where they’d been tossed all over the floor. “We were _just_ talking about all the weirdness and you think I can relax when we can finally locate the guy who may or may not be a real live werewolf?”

Rhys moved to stand in front of Seth, his expression serious. “No matter what species he might be, the man _is_ a killer, Seth. I doubt he’s going to go down easy, not after being on the run for twenty years.”

“Fine, bundle me up in Kevlar if it makes you feel better.” Seth shrugged, meeting Rhys’ gaze steadily. “I’m not going to sit home, twiddling my thumbs.” 

Rhys looked as though he might argue, but then he nodded. “All right. I just don’t want you put at risk. We still have to find him, of course, but I want to do it quickly. I don’t want to face this guy any time close to the full moon.”

“As much as I hate to give in to superstition, I don’t either,” Seth admitted. He glanced down at the clothes in his arms, not particularly wanting to show up at the station wearing the same thing he’d had on the day before. “We have time for a shower, right? We could take one together. Totally in the interests of saving time, of course,” he said, managing to keep a straight face somehow. 

“Of course, it’s a very practical suggestion,” Rhys replied, although the gravity of his expression was belied by the gleam in his eyes. “I know you have no ulterior motives at all.”

“Absolutely not.” Seth dropped his clothes and sauntered towards Rhys’ bathroom. He could get a fresh change of clothes from the guest room after their shower since he felt pretty confident that Rhys didn’t mind seeing him walk around naked. “But if my hands happen to get soapy, well....” He tossed a ‘come hither’ smirk over his shoulder. 

“I’m sure you’ll find something very use to do with them,” Rhys replied, following closely behind Seth. “Besides, sharing makes it easier to get your back all clean.”

“I’m overdue for a good back scrubbing.” 

It took a little longer for them to get to the station than planned, but they were both squeaky clean -- and thoroughly sated -- when they did.

* * *

After the initial flurry of activity when they arrived at the station, Rhys had a hard time concentrating on his regular work while they waited for information about their suspect. There was also so many questions that were still unanswered about the how and the why of the attacks and where Franklin had been holed up for the past twenty years. Of course, the one uppermost in Rhys’ mind was whether werewolves really did exist and if Riley Franklin was one of them. 

He was still fighting with himself over that one, flip-flopping between logic and emotion. Even though he was quite certain now that Severus and Remus had been real, and he was coming to accept that he and Seth were likely their reincarnations, the whole sword-and-sorcery thing was much more difficult to rationalize. Despite his words to Seth that morning, he was sure he wouldn’t fully believe it unless he saw it with his own eyes.

“This is the part I hate,” he said to Seth, as the old-fashioned clock on the wall of his office clicked over to noon. “Waiting. I feel like I should be out there hunting, but with no real leads to go on, we’d just be flailing around in the dark for the sake of flailing.”

“Exactly,” Seth agreed, glancing up from his tablet at Rhys. “We need to conserve our energy and resources for when they’re needed.” 

Rhys couldn’t help but smile at Seth, slowly and seductively. The case they were on was serious, but he felt like smiling, remembering their shared shower. “I’m all for that,” he growled. 

Seth lifted his nose in the air and gave Rhys a haughty look. “ _I_ was referring to going after Franklin,” he said, although there was an answering gleam in his dark eyes. 

“That, too,” Rhys replied with a chuckle, then shook his head. “I guess I’d better keep focused on my work, or I’ll end up frustrated on two fronts.”

“Then you might be interested in who just came in, Chief.” Fred Walker stuck his head in the door. There was no way to miss the excitement on his face. 

Rhys was rising to his feet even as he answered. “And who might that be?”

“Jerry Edwards. You know, the guy who owns Reliable Pawn? He came to report someone fencing stolen merchandise. But his description of the perp sounds awfully familiar.”

Rhys glanced at Seth. “Come on. I’m sure you’ll want to hear this.”

Seth put his tablet aside and stood up quickly, his expression eager. “Damned right I do.”

They followed Fred back out into the main area to where an older, balding man sat in front of Fred’s desk.

“Mr. Edwards?” Rhys asked, holding out his hand. “I’m Sheriff Lewis, and this is Dr. Snyder. Officer Walker tells me you’ve had someone trying to sell you stolen goods?”

Jerry Edwards shook Rhys’ hand and nodded to Seth. “Yes, sir. I run a clean business. I don’t want no accusations of fencing associated with my shop. I’ve been here for years, you know, and I haven’t ever had any trouble with the law.”

“Yes, I know, Mr. Edwards,” Rhys smiled in encouragement, sensing the shop owner’s sensitivity to the subject. He propped one hip on the edge of Fred’s desk, keeping his pose casual. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

“I had a man come in this morning. He’s been in a couple of times before,” Edwards said. “First time, he sold me a man’s plain gold wedding band. No inscription, nothing out of the ordinary, only worth about thirty bucks just for the gold in it. It’s not that unusual for a man to want to ditch his ring after a divorce, so I didn’t ask many questions. Just took his name down like I’m supposed to. Insurance reasons, you know.”

“Of course. What name did he give you?” Rhys asked.

“Robert Duncan,” Edwards replied. “Said he was homeless, so he didn’t have a driver’s license. Been a lot of folks down on their luck the last few years, so I didn’t press since it wasn’t that much.”

“Makes sense. When did he come in the first time? Do you remember approximately when he returned? Did you notice anything unusual about him?”

Edwards frowned. “First time was maybe two weeks ago. He was looking kinda sickly, as I recall, because the next time he came in, a week later, he looked a lot better. I commented on it, and he said yeah, he must’ve had a virus or something. That time, he sold me a watch. Said he’d been holding on to it, hated to let it go, but that with the economy and all, he didn’t have a choice. I gave him fifty for it.”

“And there was nothing unusual that time, either?” Rhys asked.

“No, sir. What he had was just a man’s sports watch, not a new one, either, but there’s people who like the retro ones. You know, the kind with actual hands, not a digital one with all the apps.” Edwards paused, then went on when Rhys nodded. “But then he came in about an hour ago, and this time… well, I didn’t much like the look in his eyes.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve seen some dangerous men in my time, Sheriff. Been in the military, and I lived in the city for a while, not that it was to my liking. I never got the feeling the other times he came in, but this time, Duncan gave me this smug smile, like we were buddies or something, and he looked… hungry , but not for food, if you know what I mean. Then he pulled out a pair of man’s gold cufflinks and a woman’s brooch. Said he’d won a bet with someone and the guy paid up with his jewelry. But he was lying.”

“How can you be certain?” Rhys asked. “People do that sometimes. Not smart people, but still.” Rhys was inclined to believe Edwards was right, but it was his job to make sure he had all the facts.

Edwards shook his head. “Because I recognized the jewelry. The cufflinks were nothing special, just gold knots, but the brooch… that’s the one I knew. I’m in the volunteer fire department, and we had that fundraiser over the summer -- that dinner dance, remember? We made a big deal of inviting the seasonal folks, the ones with vacation houses or cottages up in the woods. Some of them are pretty rich, and well, you know how it is in a little town…”

“I certainly do,” Rhys said. “Go on.”

“At the dinner dance, the Chief had all of us guys make sure to ask the ladies to dance. I asked one nice woman, and we chatted as we went around the floor. She was wearing a brooch, a really unusual one with three big rubies surrounded by emeralds. I could tell it was valuable. I complimented her on it, and she said it had been in her family for a long time.”

“You’re sure this is the brooch that Duncan tried to sell you?” Rhys asked. 

“Positive, Sheriff. In fact, I went ahead and bought it. I could see he didn’t know how valuable it was. Probably thought it was fake jewels, since he didn’t even blink when I offered him only sixty for the cufflinks and the brooch.” Edwards shivered. “I didn’t want to piss him off. I just wanted him to leave, and I didn’t want him suspecting I knew he stole that brooch.”

“Do you have the name of the lady it belongs to?” Rhys asked. 

“I called the station. They had it from the guest list from the dinner dance. Got her address here in North Carolina and her one in New Jersey, too,” Edwards replied. He pulled out his wallet and withdrew a piece of paper, which he passed over to Rhys. “I figured you’d want it and the brooch. It’s in that box right there, along with the cufflinks. For all I know, they belong to her husband.”

“It was good of you to come forward like this, Mr. Edwards,” Rhys replied, giving him a smile of approval. “Fred told me he took a description from you, but if you don’t mind, I’d like you to look at a couple of pictures for me.”

“Sure, Sheriff, I don’t mind,” Edwards replied. “I hope you do catch him, because I don’t want him coming in my shop anymore.”

“Of course.” Rhys nodded to Fred, who brought one of the military photos of Riley Franklin up on his computer. “What do you think? Does he look anything like your man?”

Edwards frowned at the photo, then nodded slowly. “There’s definitely a strong resemblance. Is that his son? Duncan is at least twenty or thirty years older.”

A fresh surge of excitement shot through Rhys. “We think this is the guy, only this photo is a couple of decades old. Just one more thing: I assume you have surveillance cameras in your store? I want Fred to go back with you and copy your recordings from all three times that Duncan has been in.”

“Sure, Sheriff, glad to help.” Edwards nodded and stood.

After Fred and Edwards had departed, Rhys looked at the addresses on the paper, then glanced at Seth. “If this really is Franklin, and he’s breaking into unused properties in the area to steal stuff, I bet he’s feeling pretty secure. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’s making himself at home in Mrs. Jenkins’ house or one close by. I’m of a mind to go up and check it out.”

“Let’s do it.” An eager light was back in Seth’s eyes, and Rhys didn’t have to be a mind reader to know Seth was as anxious to get answers about what Franklin was -- or was not -- as he was. “He won’t be expecting anyone, so we’ll have the element of surprise on our side.” 

“He might be armed,” Rhys said, straightening up and beckoning to Seth. “I’m going to put you in Kevlar, and you said you’d wear it, right? I’m going to be wearing it, too.” He smiled crookedly. “At least we have a good two weeks until the full moon.”

“I assume that means neither of us will come out of this a werewolf,” Seth said dryly as he followed Rhys. “But yes, I’m still willing to wear as much Kevlar as you want to put on me. Should we take back-up too?”

“I was planning on that, trust me.”

Rhys lead the way into the armory, and fifteen minutes later, he and Seth -- along with two deputies, Greg and Brian -- were loaded up in squad cars and headed toward the Jenkins’ place. 

Rhys pulled to a stop at the foot of a long driveway ascended up a hill into the trees. “The house isn’t visible from the road,” he told Seth. “We don’t want to scare him off, if he’s still there. You can wait here with the radio on, and I’ll send a message when we determine it’s safe.”

“Sure,” Seth replied with casual ease. “Whatever you say.” 

There was something about Seth’s tone that worried Rhys, but he leaned in to kiss Seth swiftly. “I just want you to be safe,” he said, then got out of the car.

Brian and Greg were waiting, and Rhys signaled for them all to start up the hill toward the house. The shadows were lengthening as the sun headed toward the horizon, and under the thick cover of trees lining the drive, the light was even dimmer. Guns out, the three men moved as quietly as possible, wanting to get into sight of the house before the suspect realized they were there.

At last they glimpsed the house, and Rhys wasn’t surprised to see lights shining through the second floor windows. He’d had Fred get hold of the Jenkins family, so he knew anyone in the house wasn’t there with the owners’ permission. 

“Brian, head around to the back door. Greg, you wait here,” he said quietly to Brian and Greg. “I’ll go in the front, so that way, he doesn’t manage to escape by getting past us.”

“Got it, Chief,” Brian said. They synced up their watches, then Brian headed toward the back of the house while Rhys crept up on the front.

The house was secured with electronic combination locks, and the Jenkins’ had filed the codes with the police and fire departments in case of emergencies. Rhys wasn’t sure if Franklin had managed to hack the lock code or had gotten in through another path, but to his relief, the door lock accepted the proper code and opened quietly. He did a quick check of the first floor, meeting up with Brian in the main hall, and then they both started up the stairs to the second floor.

After the fact, Rhys was never quite certain what had tipped Franklin off to their presence. Either the man had great hearing or some sixth sense warned him of danger. Either way, Franklin emerged from one of the rooms, snarling in fury before they reached the top of the stairs.

Caught by surprise, Rhys hesitated for a fraction of a second before he shouted for Franklin to surrender. But Franklin was already moving toward him, and Rhys managed to get off one shot before Franklin plowed into him, making him lose his balance on the stairs and fall back into Brian. But Franklin didn’t stop, running over both of them, flailing out with punches and kicks as he did. Brian’s gun went flying, and while Rhys managed to hold on to his, Franklin caught him in the side of the head with a punch hard enough to make him see stars. By the time he’d tumbled to the bottom of the stairs, Franklin was running for the front door.

“Catch him!” Rhys scrambled to his feet and ran after the suspect. He didn’t even spare a look to see if his deputy obeyed, dashing as fast as he could for the front door. He couldn’t get a clear shot at Franklin, who made it to the door and outside a moment before Rhys got there. 

Time seemed to slow as he brought up his gun to try for a shot, even as he yelled for Franklin to stop. Beyond the suspect, he saw Greg bringing his own gun up to fire. Franklin dodged to one side at the last moment, however, and they both missed.

Then the situation went from serious to horrifying.

Seth, bull-headed and strong-willed, hadn’t obeyed Rhys’ order to stay in the car. Rhys had no idea why. Maybe he thought it was taking too long and was worried about Rhys. Whatever the reason, he’d come up the hill, avoiding the driveway and taking to the woods. Instead of making him run in the opposite direction, hearing the gunshots caused him to run out into the open, and Franklin homed in on the one unarmed opponent he faced. Moving faster than Rhys thought possible, Franklin grabbed Seth and secured one arm around his neck, using Seth as a shield.

“I’ll kill him!” Franklin shouted. “Just try me.”

Rhys’ heart was hammering, and he stared at Seth, seeing a mixture of anger and fear in Seth’s expression. 

“Let him go, Franklin,” Rhys ordered, keeping his voice as steady as he could despite his own terror at seeing Seth in the clutches of someone who, even if not a full-fledged monster, was at least a serial killer. “You’re surrounded, and hurting him isn’t going to make things any easier for you. Release him, and we’ll make sure the judge knows you surrendered peacefully.”

“Nothing is easy for me!” Franklin shot back. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me! You don’t know what I go through! If you think his life means anything to me, you’re wrong! But I’m not going to prison! Drop your guns, and I’ll let him go.”

Rhys kept his grip on his service pistol, not backing down. He was sure Franklin wouldn’t release Seth even if they did drop their guns. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan, to find the words that would make Franklin let Seth go. 

He looked at Franklin, seeing his eyes gleaming in the dim light, seeing not only fear, but a horrible, haunted pain. Then he was speaking, not even knowing what he was going to say until the words came out of his mouth.

“I do know,” he said. “What you go through. What it’s like to be you. I know it hurts, doesn’t it? It’s agony, torture, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it, is there? Every month, the same thing, year after year, the helplessness, the fear, the pain. You want to bottle it up, contain it, but you don’t know how, do you? It turns you into a monster, and you can’t stop it. It makes you kill, and you can’t control it.”

Franklin went still, but his arm was still locked around Seth’s throat. “No…” he groaned. “You can’t… it’s not real… It can’t be real.”

“It is real.” Rhys felt a surprising stab of pity, but he wasn’t certain if it came from himself or from something -- or someone -- inside of him. “It’s real, and it’s in you, isn’t it?”

The world seemed to narrow down to just Rhys, Franklin, and Seth. Rhys saw Franklin’s eyes widen. “How can you know? What it’s like to be a...”

“Say it,” Rhys urged. “Name it, Riley. Let it out.”

For a long moment, Rhys held Franklin’s gaze, and when Franklin spoke, it was almost too soft to hear.

“Werewolf,” Franklin whispered hoarsely. “I’m a…”

Franklin’s grip must have loosened, because suddenly Seth reared back, smacking his head into Franklin’s face and jabbing an elbow into his gut. Franklin shrieked in rage, but Seth managed to break free and bolted toward Rhys at top speed. 

Furious, blood dripping from a shattered nose, Franklin snarled and lunged toward Seth, and Rhys saw the killer in Franklin’s eyes. There was no pity in him now, and he knew that if Franklin caught Seth again, Seth was dead. This time when he fired, his aim was true. Franklin’s head exploded in a fountain of gore, even as his body was hurled backward from the impact of bullets fired by the two deputies.

But then Seth was there, and Rhys grabbed him, wrapping his arms around Seth and holding on for dear life. “You’re safe,” he said, almost weak with relief that it was really true. “I love you, and you’re safe.”

Seth clung to Rhys in return. “I love you too,” he said, his voice ragged and rough. 

Rhys simply held Seth, nearly overcome with happiness. He pulled back just enough so that he could kiss Seth, needing to seal the words between them like a bond. Then he kept kissing Seth, because it felt so damned good. Seth didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, still holding onto Rhys like a lifeline. 

“Uh, Chief?” Brian’s voice was suffused with embarrassment. “Don’t you think we should call Doc Patterson and the military?”

Reluctantly, Rhys broke the kiss and glanced over at his deputy with a rueful smile. “Yeah, I suppose we should,” he replied. “Sorry, boys. It’s not every day that I see the man I love in mortal peril. Pardon my relief.”

“Sure, Chief, no problem,” Greg replied, elbowing his partner and grinning at Rhys. “Just so you know, I took a picture.”

“Planning to enjoy it in private later?” Seth retorted. 

Greg laughed and shook his head. “No, but I might know a couple of people who would,” he replied. Then he drew out his radio, contacting the station to report what had happened.

Rhys looked down at Seth. “I wish I hadn’t had to shoot him,” he said quietly. “I wish we could have done something for him.”

“Like what?” Seth frowned and shook his head. “If Remus didn’t have a cure, and he lived with wizards, what chance did we have of helping Franklin? For that matter, what do you think would have happened at Leavenworth at the next full moon? Our world isn’t equipped for this.”

“I know.” Rhys rested his palm against Seth’s cheek. “So you believe now?”

Seth glanced down, appearing uncertain. “Maybe.” He grimaced as he added, “Probably. Franklin admitted what he was. We can’t tell anyone, of course, but you and I both know he wasn’t speaking metaphorically when he called himself a werewolf. If he really was one -- and we still don’t have concrete evidence of that -- but if he was... then it would be harder for me to deny that Severus and Remus were real, too.” 

“I guess we’ll have to try to find out now.” Rhys said. He caressed Seth’s cheek, then touched the side of his neck. He felt warm stickiness and felt an immediate flare of panic. “Wait! You’re bleeding! What did he do to you?”

Seth winced a little at the touch and let out a soft hiss. “He scratched me when I got away. He had really sharp fingernails.” 

Rhys growled softly, unhappy that Seth had been injured. “Come on, let’s go back to the squad car. I have a first aid kit there. Then I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out.”

“It’s just a scratch,” Seth grumbled. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Have you had a tetanus shot?” Rhys asked, wrapping his arm around Seth and starting back down the driveway. “It should still get checked out, just in case.” He cast a sidelong glance at Seth. “Now that we’re officially in love, I get to fuss over you. It’s in the rules.”

Seth released a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, all my immunizations are up to date. My GP sees to that. But fine, if you want to waste time sitting in the ER waiting room so the doctor can take a look, say it’s just a scratch, and give me a Band-Aid when we could be having sex, I’ll go.” 

“Hmmm… that’s a difficult choice,” Rhys replied, pretending to consider it. “My ultimate goal, of course, is to make you feel better. So you decide, which would be more effective? A Band-Aid and a lollipop from the doctor or your very own sheriff going over every inch of your body to make sure you’re perfectly well?”

“The only lollipop I want is attached to the sheriff.” Seth slid his hand down to grope Rhys’ ass briefly and smirked up at him. “I also prefer total hands-on care and treatment.” 

“Then by all means, let’s give you what you want,” Rhys replied. “After all, I have a promise to keep to a certain snarky gentleman who has a vested interest in your well-being.” He grinned back at Seth. “God knows, I’d hate to have him come back to haunt me.”

* * *

Seth regarded the deteriorating building with distaste. Somehow, it looked even worse in reality than it did in their dreams, and he had to wonder how it was still standing. The wood structure was overgrown with weeds, and it looked like it was rotting. Most of the windows were broken, and there was a gaping hole in the roof. 

They had stopped at a good distance from the building, and Seth was fine with not getting any closer. He didn’t need to go inside to confirm that it was the same building from his dreams; it was more dilapidated than he remembered from his dream, but he knew it was the right place. It _felt_ familiar, but not in a good way. 

“Well...” he said at last. “I think we found it.” 

“Yeah.” Rhys tightened his arm around Seth’s shoulders, and Seth could feel the shiver that ran through his body. “It’s real. I don’t think I had completely accepted everything until now.”

“You _do_ recognize it?” Seth glanced at him curiously. “It’s the same as the place in your dreams?”

“It is.” Rhys looked back at him, his expression somber. “Older and more dilapidated, but the same. Remus… he spent a lot of time in there. It was a place of pain and anguish for him.” He lifted his free hand, brushing Seth’s cheek. “But it was even worse for Severus, I think.”

“I don’t know if it was worse, but he died here, which is bad enough.” Seth turned his attention back to the shack, staring at it pensively. “I wanted concrete proof... and here it is.”

“Here it is,” Rhys repeated softly. “We aren’t hallucinating, and Severus and Remus actually existed -- lived and died -- right around here. I’m amazed we actually found it, but I’m glad. Maybe it will end the dreams once and for all.”

“I hope so. I feel like I could write a book about Severus at this point,” Seth grumbled. 

Finding this place was the culmination of almost a year’s search, interspersed with several changes for the both of them. Seth had requested a transfer to Asheville, and while he’d started out renting an apartment in Waynesville, it hadn’t taken long for them to give up the pretense of separate living spaces. By the six month mark, Seth had given up the apartment and moved in with Rhys. They’d kept journals, writing down as many details as they could remember from their dreams, and eventually, they’d pieced together enough clues to lead them here. 

“Maybe finding this place will give them peace,” he said, turning to Rhys and giving him an arch look. “Or maybe it’ll take something more personal so they’ll know we aren’t going to fuck things up like they did. Maybe they’re waiting for you to make an honest man of me.”

Rhys looked startled, but then a brilliant smile lit up his face. “I’ve been thinking along those lines myself, actually,” he said, stepping back from Seth and then going down on one knee. To Seth’s surprise, Rhys reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a ring. When he held it up, Seth could see it was made of white gold and had the shape of a snake swallowing its own tail -- an ouroboros. “Dr. Seth Snyder, I love you, and I want to be with you and only you in this life or any other. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Seth found the serpent ring morbidly amusing considering how Severus had died not far from this very spot, but it was also appropriate, not only because of their past lives offering proof of the immortality of the soul, but also because he’d seen Severus associated with a crest with a snake on it several times in his dreams. 

Aside from all of that, seeing Rhys on his knees, offering that ring, made Seth happier than he could remember feeling before in his life. He didn’t consider himself a sentimental man, but even he couldn’t help melting at the edges a little at seeing the man he loved proposing. 

“Conveniently enough, I want to be with you in this life and any other too,” Seth replied, hoping he didn’t sound too sappy. “So yes, I’ll marry you.” 

Rhys smiled up at him and took his left hand, slipping the ring onto his fourth finger. Then Rhys rose to his feet and pulled Seth into his arms. “Thank you,” he murmured, then bent his head and captured Seth’s lips in a kiss that was both passionate and loving.

Seth didn’t hesitate to slide his arms around Rhys and return the kiss in equal measure. Tender words didn’t come easily to him, but he could show Rhys what was in his heart through the kiss. 

After a time, Rhys pulled back and leaned his forehead against Seth’s. “Do you want a closer look at that place? Or can I lure you back to the hotel to celebrate our upcoming nuptials?”

“No, I’m good,” Seth replied fervently. “It’s here, we saw it, and I’m satisfied. I don’t need to go in, even if I didn’t think we’d end up risking life and limb by stepping foot inside that wreck. Besides, I’ve already got a souvenir from this world,” he added, pointing at the scar on his neck, a relic of their encounter with a werewolf. 

The wound had healed, but the scar was still vivid, and Seth suspected it wouldn’t ever go away, along with his taste for rare meat. The full moon also affected him, bringing out what he couldn’t help but think of as his inner beast, but he found ways to channel it that Rhys certainly seemed to enjoy. 

“Sounds good to me,” Rhys replied. He took Seth’s hand and turned in the direction of their rental car. “Somehow, I don’t think Severus or Remus will mind if we call this over now. This is where it ended for them… and now this is where it begins for us.”

Seth twined his fingers with Rhys’, more than ready to put this place behind him. “Then let’s go home and get started on the happily ever after that they never got.”

\- end -


End file.
